


Someone Worth Saving

by spiceinvaders



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Asexual Draco Malfoy, Bisexual Harry Potter, Coming Out, Draco listens to One Direction, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Fred is still dead (I'M SORRY), Gay Draco Malfoy, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, I Want To Write You a Song is their song ok, Living Together, M/M, No Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Tonks and Sirius and Remus live, Trans Character, because of vague reasons, they all have mobile phones and computers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-12 11:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 57,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12957933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiceinvaders/pseuds/spiceinvaders
Summary: Everyone returns for Eighth year, and Harry and Draco are forced to share a dorm. They help each other through the effects of the war.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for NaNoWriMo 2017. It's easily the longest thing I've ever written, and my first foray into fanfic writing for many years, so be nice! Currently editing it, and will be uploading chapters as they're edited. I might also update the tags as I go along and remember what I wrote. Some chapters are <1000 words and some are almost 10k so I'm sorry in advance but hopefully it'll work out through editing.

Harry stopped for a moment after stepping through the barrier and let his eyes adjust to the scene around him. He was on Platform 9 ¾ , it was September 1st and the scarlet Hogwarts Express was standing proud along the station, waiting to take him and his classmates to school. He was jostled to the side as Ginny and Molly made their way onto the platform behind him and he followed after them, Ron, and Hermione as they searched for an empty compartment. Harry couldn’t believe how _normal_ everything looked. There were parents crying as they bid their children farewell, kids comparing chocolate frog cards, people gawking at his very existence and no danger in sight, but Harry couldn’t fight the niggling anxiety in his chest. He forced himself to focus on his friends and his might-as-well-be family as they stopped towards the back of the train.

“Thanks so much for this summer,” Harry said, hugging Molly and Arthur in turn, thinking he could never thank them enough for taking him in and caring for him like their own children.

“Of course, Harry! Anything you need,” Molly said, “I trust you’ll be returning to the Burrow for Christmas with Ron and Hermione?”

“That’s the plan,” Harry gave her one last smile and boarded the train. He peeked left and right into the compartments as he went, looking for the one his friends occupied. A couple of doors along, he looked into a compartment that appeared to be empty. On second glance, however, he noticed with a jolt his school nemesis Draco Malfoy was sitting by the window, occupied by what looked like a NEWT textbook. He stood for a second too long however, as Malfoy turned and looked up at whoever was hovering by his compartment door. When he saw it was Harry, a faint look of surprise tinted his features. Harry could see Malfoy’s concerted effort not to scowl, and instead watched as he nodded, barely noticeably, and returned to his book. Harry barely had a moment to register the encounter, or to realise that all he’d done was gape, when Neville’s head appeared out of a compartment slightly further up.

“Harry, in here!” 

Harry grinned as wide as he could manage - which wasn’t very - and made his way along the small aisle.

Inside the compartment, Harry was happy to note that their group had remained small. Only Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville were lounging across from each other on the soft red seats.

“It’s weird to be going back isn’t it?” Neville said, even as he watched the platform disappear, “wonder how all the logistics are going to work with all of us returning.”

“Well,” said Hermione, hands rested on the ever-present book in her lap. Harry absently wondered if it was her copy of Hogwarts: A History. “I’m not sure how many actually will be returning. I imagine we might just combine classes with the seventh years.”

“We’re adults now, ‘Mione,” mused Ron, “do you reckon we’ll get special privileges ‘n stuff? Hogsmeade whenever we want?”

“We would’ve been adults in our seventh year, too, though-” Hermione began.

“But they weren’t expecting we’d have fought a war then,” Harry said, sounding bitter even to his own ears, “surely they can’t treat us the same as if we hadn’t. Especially since it’s our _choice_ to be returning.”

“You might be right,” Hermione said slowly, looking at Harry like she so often did these days - like he was volatile, “I just don’t know… there’s no precedent.”

The conversation died into stilted silence, and Harry sat slightly stiffly, still feeling uneasy about the whole day. He fought the urge to bring his legs up onto the chair and curl into the foetal position, and instead thought about the boy two compartments down. Seeing Malfoy was a surprise. At the Burrow, they’d all speculated about who might be returning, but Harry had found it hard to believe the Slytherin prince would’ve swallowed his pride enough to. Then again, Harry had seen him at his trial, seen how broken he had been, how much he’d acted out of fear during the war. He had a strong desire to go sit across from Malfoy. Not to talk, just to look out the window while Malfoy read his book, and not have to listen to Neville and Ginny’s quiet conversation about why she and Harry broke up, or Hermione and Ron’s sickly sweet giggles and soft kisses.

He resisted, and rested his head against the pane of glass that looked into the narrow corridor, wishing he could block out the world.

Harry must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew was Hermione shaking his shoulder and telling him they’d arrived. Blearily looking around, he fixed his glasses and noticed a number of people had joined them while he’d been asleep. Luna was mouthing something silently out the window, illuminated gold in the fading sun, and Dean was patting Seamus’ wayward hair down to no avail. Harry wondered if anyone had joined Malfoy in his compartment.


	2. Chapter 2

As Harry waited to climb into the thestral-drawn carriages that would take them to Hogwarts, he looked around at the students around him. It was already dark, but the platform was lit by lanterns floating mere centimetres above everyone’s heads. It would have been quite a romantic atmosphere had it not been for the chatter of hundreds of eager witches and wizards. 

Many of the younger students spared Harry barely a cursory glance, too young to fully comprehend why they would care about the Boy Who Lived, or too caught up in the excitement of returning to Hogwarts. He heard older students whisper about him, and saw some openly stare. Some smiled at him in what Harry supposed was meant to be a gesture of appreciation or solidarity. Thankfully, none approached him. He spotted a flash of white-blonde hair to his right and turned to see Malfoy stalk leisurely off the train. Harry’s concern for the boy dissipated as he realised Malfoy was no longer alone. Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson walked either side of him, and Harry felt a strange discomfort in realising that they were walking in the same formation Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had for all those years. The arrival of an empty carriage gave Harry an excuse to not to dwell further on events of war, and any other students or teachers he could no longer expect to be returning to Hogwarts this year. Harry climbed onto the uncomfortable wooden bench and ended up squashed between Luna and Ginny. He spared a glance for the creatures harnessed ahead of them. He wondered how many more students would be able to see them, this year. He didn’t risk looking around to find out, and instead chose to stare at his hands. Luna pulled him and Ginny into a conversation about something Harry was sure was only true in the Quibbler, and he was grateful for the distraction. Still, the lump in his throat didn’t go away until he was sufficiently distracted by the castle looming into view.

Harry allowed himself to feel slightly apprehensive- after all, Hermione herself had said there was no precedent for “eighth year” students at Hogwarts- and this feeling wasn’t helped when McGonagall appeared outside the Great Hall doors to request the returning eighth years wait a moment for the other students to be seated. Ginny bid them goodbye, and the rest of the group stood between two suits of armour along the left hand wall of the Entrance Hall. Harry looked up at the moving staircases that came off on either side of them, at the moving portraits on the wall, and at the hourglasses that held the house points. He took a deep breath. He was home.

Along with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Dean, Seamus and the three Slytherins, there were four Ravenclaws, two Hufflepuffs and Parvati Patil to be returning. McGonagall returned for them while everyone else was still noisily getting seated, and Harry said a silent thank you to the universe that she wasn’t going to make a big deal of their presence. She lead them to a table at the back of the Hall that was about a quarter of the size of the House tables, and they sat down -Harry sandwiched between Ron and Seamus- without complaint, though Harry couldn’t help but notice the distaste on Malfoy’s face. The Hall was impeccably decorated, as always. The floating candles shone over the house tables underneath the charmed ceiling which showed a clear and starry night sky. Hundreds of black hats stood tall around house tables and Harry felt himself calm at the very sight of a normal Hogwarts feast.

As the first years filed in, Harry, for the first time, thought the innocent fear on their faces was endearing. This is what they’d fought for- the chance for children to have a childhood. The Sorting Hat sang rather predictably about good triumphing over evil, about inter-house unity and warned -  _ slightly ominously, _ Harry thought - that there were more challenges still to come. The students were sorted, and Harry took mild interest in how he was now able to recognise many of the family names that were called out. He found himself surprised by almost every sort made of these students.

“The hat’s really trying to push that ‘don’t judge a book by it’s cover’ stuff isn’t it?” Ron whispered, voicing Harry’s thoughts, “I mean, I guess we’ve got to have inter-house unity if it splits families up, right?”

Harry chuckled at that, “yeah, didn’t work out so well for Sirius though did it?”

Ron grinned, “Imagine it - third great wizarding war started as families are divided by old hat.”

Harry laughed, but stopped quickly as he caught Malfoy glaring at him from the other end of the table. He averted his eyes quickly.

“I would’ve thought Malfoy wouldn’t been so keen to keep hating us after everything” he whispered to Ron as the Hat was put away and McGonagall took the podium. 

“As if Malfoy would ever change,” Ron said dismissively, “he’s a git.”

Harry directed his attention to the front of the hall, sensing that Ron didn’t care to elaborate on that.

McGonagall spoke with confidence and Harry felt soothed by her presence.

“Welcome to Hogwarts, first years, and welcome back, everyone else!” There was a brief smattering of applause, “I don’t want to speak for too long, as I know you all must be tired and hungry from your journey,” A murmuring of assent rolled through the Hall. “Your timetables will be delivered at breakfast tomorrow morning, and your heads of houses will ensure that any important messages get to you as they’re needed. You will notice that we have an extra group of students with us this year,” Harry shrunk as far into his seat as he could as hundreds of heads swivelled to look at their odd group. “These students have returned to finish their NEWTs that they were unable to do last year. Many of these students were actively involved in, or otherwise very disrupted by the war. I hope it is not necessary for me to say, but I must stress to you all that these students are here to do their exams, not to answer your questions about the events of last year. Should I catch anyone making unwelcome comments or asking inappropriate questions at inappropriate times, there will be consequences. Seventh years, these, shall we say, eighth year students, may be joining you for some subjects where there are not enough students in their own year to make a class. You will be learning the same content, and this should not cause any disruptions, understood?”

Harry wondered what McGonagall was expecting to happen, but Harry knew that his days as ‘The Chosen One’ were far from over. He groaned and was shushed instantly by Hermione.

McGonagall finished her speech with generic well wishes and instantly the table in front of them was filled with the most delicious looking food Harry had seen in months. 

“Screw NEWTs, this is why I came back,” Harry said to Ron, who simply guffawed through a mouthful of bread. Dinner passed uneventfully, and Harry enjoyed catching up with friends he hadn’t seen in much too long. 

“Eighth years, please wait while the other students depart. Prefects, please show your first years to their common rooms.” McGonagall’s voice came clear as day once their plates had been cleared of more dessert than they could possibly eat.

Everyone at the eighth year table looked at each other uneasily.

“Does this mean we’re not going back to our common rooms?” Pansy Parkinson asked. Neville was the only one to answer her, and he did so with a shrug. 

Once all other students had made their way from the Great Hall - which took an awfully long time and an awful lot of noise, mind you - McGonagall and Flitwick strolled over to them.

“As you may have guessed, you are not going to be staying in your old dormitories this year,” McGonagall said, “in the interests of showing the rest of the school that inter-house unity can be achieved, you will all share a common room. As you are all of age, and are here by choice, you will have no restrictions placed on you in regards to being out of bed after curfew, and you will be allowed to visit Hogsmeade every weekend if you so desire.”

Ron’s face lit up at that, and Harry had to admit, it was starting to sound pretty good. 

“Professor Flitwick will show you to your new common room. Your luggage has already been brought in.”

They followed Flitwick quietly towards the Charms corridor, all unsure what to expect. He lead them up a staircase between two classroom doors that Harry had never seen before. Harry would have to ask Hermione later if it had always been there. At the top of the stairs stood a large vase of sunflowers.

“The password is ‘castigat ridendo mores’”

As Flitwick said the magic words, the vase turned and began moving to the left, taking a section of the wall with it. As the door slid open, the common room came into view.


	3. Chapter 3

The common room was everything and nothing like Harry had expected. It seemed bigger than the Gryffindor common room had been. The back wall was taken up by a fireplace, around which were a very comfortable looking set of couches and armchairs. To the right, it looked like someone had taken a chunk of library and put it in as it was. The wall was hidden by wall-to-wall bookshelves, and a set of tables were set up in straight lines in front of them. Harry could practically see Hermione making heart eyes at the area. To the left were two sets of stairs up to the dormitories, between which stood a display cabinet full of board games- both wizard and muggle, from the looks of it.

“Boys up the left, girls up the right,” Flitwick said, gesturing towards the staircases, “I’ll let you get settled. Goodnight everyone.”

There was a murmuring of goodnights as Flitwick let himself out and everyone - bar Hermione, who’d made a beeline to the little library - made their way to the stairs to see where they’d be sleeping. Harry reached the top of the staircase to find 3 doors, each wide open from those who’d beaten him there, and each with a list of names on it. He’d be sharing a room with Seamus and Malfoy. He groaned internally at the loss of Ron, and his chest tightened at the thought of living so closely with his (ex?) rival. He took the moment to peak at the other lists. Ron had been housed with Neville and Terry Boot from Ravenclaw. The other room had only two participants - Dean and Blaise Zabini.  _ Seems they really are serious about this inter-house unity stuff, _ Harry thought. He entered the room to find his trunk at the end of the bed in the middle of the room. Malfoy and Seamus were already in there, both digging through their trunks to prepare for bed. Harry noticed that Malfoy’s doona and pillow cases were a deep green, in contrast to the scarlet on Harry and Seamus’. A nice nod to their former houses, Harry was glad he wasn’t expected to completely eschew the house that had made him feel so safe. Harry doubted his roommates had acknowledged each other yet. Knowing this year would be painful if their dormitory was constantly silent, he decided to say something.

After a moment of standing awkwardly in the doorway, Harry decided he couldn’t think of what to say and resolved to try again in the morning. He got ready for bed quickly and sat down, ready to take his glasses off and go to sleep. At the last moment, before pulling the scarlet curtains around himself, Harry said (with only a slight quiver) “Goodnight guys”.

He got a reassuringly familiar “‘Night Harry” from his left, and some kind of annoyed grunt from his right. Better than nothing, he supposed.

He lay down and pulled the soft blankets around him, allowing his head to sink into the cushion. He had had a very comfortable summer at the Weasleys’, but he must admit, he missed the way the beds at Hogwarts were always perfectly warmed by house-elf magic. He reached his hand down the side of his bed and rather inelegantly dug around in his backpack. He pulled out a small, rectangular, electronic device. He’d never had a phone before, and, honestly, had never had the need to use one, but Remus and Sirius insisted that everyone was going to have them soon, now that the laws surrounding magicking muggle artifacts had changed. Harry didn’t really understand it all, all he knew was that Arthur Weasley was overjoyed, and Harry now owned a small piece of technology that he barely knew how to use. 

He pressed a button and squinted as the light hit his eyes in the dark. He had one message. It was from Remus and read  _ Hope you’re settling in well. Sirius wants to know if they’re making you room with the Slytherins and if anyone’s hexed Malfoy yet. _

Harry grinned and slowly, with lots of backspacing, typed out a reply,  _ No hexing yet, but Malfoy is in the bed next to mine _ . Harry selected a little face picture that looked kind of disgusted (“They’re called emojis,” the Hermione in his head reminded him) and paused as he thought about what to say next.  _ But I think it’s fine. He hasn’t really said or done anything yet. I promise I’ll message if he becomes git-ish again. _ He added an ‘x’ for good measure (Apparently they indicated affection. Harry really hoped people didn’t try to trick him with this, because he honestly had no idea how to check whether that was true) and sent it off before laying the phone on his bedside table next to his wand.

As he drifted off, Harry really did hope that Malfoy wasn’t as git-ish this year. He didn’t fancy waking up with something horrid having been done to his face. 

 

The next day was a Sunday, which meant the eighth years had a day to settle in before classes actually began. For most of them, this mean unpacking properly, decorating their dorms, and catching up with friends they hadn’t seen over the summer. For Hermione, it meant reacquainting herself with the library. Harry and Ron wandered back to the common room after lunch, relaxed and without a plan. Harry would’ve suggested they go for a walk around the grounds but one look at the ways the trees shook in the wind made him quickly abandon that idea. They’d just set up a game of Wizard’s Chess in the common room when Malfoy stalked past, Blaise and Pansy in tow. 

“What’s wrong, Potter?” he smirked, clearly missing the fact that Harry’s only frustration was him, “not enough of the eighth years fawning over you? Suppose you wish it was sunny out so you could sign autographs and get fed strawberries by your fans,” he practically spat the last word.

Harry frowned, “you know, Malfoy, I  _ almost _ believe that you actually think that’s what I want. But then I remembered you’re not actually an idiot, so stop the act.”

Harry got stalked towards the dormitory stairs, not waiting for an answer, and only glanced back once to make sure Ron was following.

“I can’t believe he’s  _ still _ going to be a jerk!” Harry exploded as soon as they’d gone into his dorm and shut the door behind them, “After everything, seriously?!?” He kicked Malfoy’s trunk that was still open at the end of his bed, “And  _ this  _ is the angle he’s going to take? That I’m  _ happy _ ?? With everything that happened?” His hands flailed with excess energy and frustration, “That I’m just basking in the glory of winning, so happy that so many people died just so I could be the bloody hero, yeah that sounds about fucking right, doesn’t it-” Harry allowed his anger to simmer down to soft angry voices, “fucking Malfoy, who the fuck does he think he is, fucking git,” and it was only then that he actually looked at his best friend. Ron was perched on the edge of Seamus’ bed and his lips were drawn in a tight line.

“What’s wrong?” Harry felt frozen in place, but he had a feeling that approaching Ron at this very moment might not be the right thing to do.

Ron visibly took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a minute. “I’m okay, just hate thinking about it you know? Fred…”

Harry instantly felt awful for even bringing up the damn war and sat down next to Ron, awkwardly patting his knee, “I know.”

They sat like that for a moment as Ron regained his composure and they both tried to shake off the last ten minutes. 

“Let’s go finish our game of chess,” Ron said eventually, voice determined.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, save Malfoy smirking or glaring at Harry at every opportunity. Hermione returned just before dinner time and told Harry, Ron and anyone else who would listen about the magical system which determined which books were in their common room and which were in the library (they were on a schedule based on which topics the eighth years were up to, which Harry had to admit was quite useful).

 

A week into the school term, Sirius’ face appeared in the fireplace beside Harry’s bed. Harry, who was shirtless and very glad he’d already put his pants on, half-hid behind his curtains at the sudden intrusion.

Sirius just smiled at Harry’s obvious discomfort, “how about you call me back when you’re decent?”

His head disappeared with a pop and Harry scowled at the fireplace before slipping his pyjama shirt over his head. He grabbed his pillow from his bed and kneeled on it in front of the fireplace, not wishing for the sore knees he usually ended up with when firecalling, and threw floo powder into the fire. “12 Grimmauld Place!” he shouted into the green flames, and thrust his head into the fire.

He was always very self conscious when doing this, knowing that his ass was vulnerable facing the room. He reminded himself that this was as normal as could be in the Wizarding World and looked around the empty living room of 12 Grimmauld Place.

“Sirius?” he yelled, coughing slightly.

Remus Lupin’s head appeared around the corner from the kitchen.

“Harry!” he said, and Harry felt a rush of affection at how happy Remus was to see him, “I’ll just get Sirius,”

Remus put a mug on the coffee table and disappeared the way he came. Harry heard him talking to Sirius in the distance and thanked his past self for remembering to put a cushion down.

“Harry!” Sirius greeted, in almost the exact same way as Remus had, “How are you? How are you settling in?”

Harry grinned and launched into a short description of their new common room, and new privileges.

“The rooms are actually really nice! Way bigger than our dorm rooms in Gryffindor, and we’ve each got our own desk. Mine and Seamus’ bedspreads and curtains are red, and Malfoy’s are green. I really like that they’ve kept the house colour thing going. Each dorm has their own bathroom too,”

At this, Sirius and Remus shared a look and Harry was sure he saw Remus blush. Confused, he looked back at his godfather who just smiled and said, “less chance of being interrupted, that’s good.” Remus slapped his arm.

Harry thought his would-be guardians were acting very strange and found that he really, really didn’t want to know. He pushed through, trying to act as though he hadn’t noticed their peculiar expressions. He found that acting nonchalant is a much more difficult feat when you are naught but a head in a fireplace. 

“The common room is really nice too, you should’ve seen Hermione’s face when she saw the little library,”

Remus seemed to perk up, “library?”

“Yeah, they’ve installed a bunch of bookshelves and desks. Hermione says they’re charmed to have the books we need depending on what topic we’re up to. I mean, it’s really handy, but it also means that whenever we hang out, Hermione insists on sitting at those hard benches rather than the couches by the fire.” Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

Sirius grinned at him, “ever heard of a cushioning charm?”

Harry chose to pretend that thought had occurred to him, instead pointing out, “doesn’t help my back having nothing to lean against though,”

Sirius’ eyes twinkled and Harry got sudden flashbacks to Dumbledore. How do adults always seem like they know more than you?

“Anyway,” Remus said, “how’s living with Malfoy? You didn’t start the conversation with a rant, so it must be going okay,”

“Yeah, it is,” Harry agreed slowly, “I don’t know, it’s weird. He’s still glaring at me constantly, and he’s tried to make a few quips, but no attempted hexing just yet. When we’re in our dorm at least he’s just really quiet. Not exactly as I expected.”

“Well that’s something,” Remus said tiredly, his hand out to stop Sirius’ inevitable tirade about ‘that damn Malfoy boy’, “and Seamus?”

“Uh,” Harry took a minute to think about it, “honestly he’s not around often, think he probably assumes Malfoy and I are fighting constantly,”

“Well make sure you tell him you’re not, would hate for him to feel unwelcome in his own room,” Remus smiled.

“Will do. How are you guys anyway?”

“Oh just fine,” Remus began before being interrupted by Sirius’ sudden departure from the floor.

“Look at this!” Sirius’ voice shouted from out of sight. He returned with something Harry didn’t recognise. It was clearly electronic, and very muggle.

“What is it?”

Sirius settled back down on the floor and pressed a button along the edge of the rectangular surface. The screen lit up and Harry recognised it as being a much larger version of his mobile phone.

“It’s a tablet!” Sirius said proudly.

Harry frowned at the name, “is it like a phone?”

“Yep! But bigger! Good for games!”

He demonstrated by opening a game where a small square shot even smaller squares at other, different coloured squares.

Harry and Remus looked on fondly at Sirius’ childlike glee, and then Harry was brought back to the present by a sound that he could tell was coming from his side of the fireplace.

“I’m going to go guys, but it was really nice talking,”

“Was so good to talk to you, Harry,” Remus smiled.

Sirius just grinned and reached over to ruffle Harry’s hair, “give Malfoy hell for me,”

“I’m not going to give him hell, Sirius, but thanks. See you.”

He pulled his head back to Hogwarts with a pop and sat momentarily in front of his fireplace to readjust to his surroundings. He turned around slowly, grabbing his pillow as he got to his feet, and noticed Malfoy had entered the room sometime during his conversation.

He tried to think of everything he’d said, but had no idea if there’d been anything he wouldn’t have wanted Malfoy to hear.

Malfoy, however, was stood by his bed, staring at Harry.

“Who were you talking to?”

“What?” Harry bit his tongue to hold back the  _ what business is that of yours? _ that threatened to escape.

“You said ‘Sirius’” Malfoy said, almost accusingly.

“Yeah, my godfather. Sirius Black,” he couldn’t resist this time, “you might’ve heard of him.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed, like he couldn’t tell whether Harry was messing with him or not. 

“Thought he was convicted, or dead.”

“Luckily for me, he is neither. He escaped Azkaban during our third year and was finally pardoned a couple of years ago. He was never a Death Eater.”

Harry could’ve sworn Draco flinched at the name.

“Fine,” Draco turned so his back was to Harry and continued getting ready for bed.

Harry teetered on the spot for a moment, torn between apologising for the ‘Death Eater’ comment and just ignoring it. He decided that Draco was still being a git, so he could be too.

Nevertheless, fifteen minutes later found him muttering an unanswered “goodnight” into the darkness.

 

The next morning, Harry woke up after a hyper-realistic dream about living in an apartment and making breakfast for someone upstairs. His dream-self had known his love was upstairs and, more than that, had been male. Harry didn’t particularly feel like having an identity crisis right now, and lay in bed for longer than usual just listening to Malfoy move around the room outside his curtains. He wondered if he should apologise for making him uncomfortable, or for using the fireplace without letting him know first, or… something. 

He hadn’t quite decided by the time he emerged from his curtains and was very glad that he hadn’t said anything when Malfoy put a familiar sneer on his face and asked him what he was looking at when he stood beside his bed for too long, eyes following the movement.

At he stood under the shower, he couldn’t help but think Malfoy’s heart hadn’t exactly been in it. But, he thought, hurriedly blinking shampoo out of his eye and regretting not having just used a couple of freshening-up spells, he was still choosing to say mean things, and that wasn’t something Harry could condone, no matter the tone.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry didn’t bring up the subject of Malfoy with Ron and Hermione for almost a week. He knew he couldn’t control himself when he got onto the topic of the blond, and didn’t want to risk saying something else insensitive. On Friday night, however, Ron left Harry and Hermione alone in the common room while he spent time with Ginny. The Weasleys hadn’t been the same since Fred’s death, but they’d managed their grief in what Harry thought was the most admirable way - they now all made much more of an effort to spend time together. Harry frequently caught Ron writing or flooing with one of his brothers or parents, and Ron and Ginny had set up weekly evenings that they spent together, just playing chess or talking. Harry hadn’t asked what they talked about since the first time Ron had come back and gone straight to bed, clear that he’d been crying. He thought about how good it was they had each other that night, and wondered what it would be like to have a sibling. 

“Hermione,” Harry said, looking up from the book he’d not really even pretended to be reading. They were sitting in the Eighth year library, though Harry longed to be in the comfortable armchairs by the fire instead. Hermione tilted her head slightly towards him without looking up, and Harry took that as permission to continue. “Why is Malfoy still a git?”

Hermione looked up, oddly surprised, “what do you mean?”

Harry gaped at her.  _ What did he mean?? Surely this was obvious? _ “He’s still being a git. I thought that, after the war… I mean, he’s on our side right, one of the good guys,” Harry paused for a moment before saying quietly, “he’s not acting like it.” He ignored the disappointment in his words and tried to summon the anger he’d had for Malfoy just days ago.

“Well,” Hermione said. She’d apparently decided this was an Important Conversation, because she carefully placed a bookmark in her Arithmancy book and turned her entire body on the bench to face Harry, “There’s a number of things going on for Malfoy, I assume,” she began. “Firstly, have you seen how everyone here treats him? Like he’s still a Death Eater, like he should be rotting in Azkaban. That’s got to be denting his pride. Related to that, I think he’s jealous of you,”

“Jealou-?”

“Yes, Harry, jealous. As far as he can see, apart from the war, which he was in as well, you’ve had a pretty good run of it. I assume he doesn’t know about the Dursleys?” Harry shook his head slowly, “So as far as he’s concerned, you’re famous and rich and everyone adores you, then you won a war, and continued being famous and rich and adored.”

Harry was flabbergasted. This was  _ Malfoy _ she was talking about. He’s also famous and rich and adored! Well, maybe not so adored anymore… and Harry had to admit his fame had turned more into something akin to infamy since the war. He stared at Hermione as he processed the information.

“Right…” he said eventually.

Hermione seemed satisfied and turned back to her book. Harry could no longer even make out the words on his through the thoughts swirling through his brain. It’s not like he didn’t know Malfoy was human, not like he didn’t know it would’ve been hard for him, but… if he was honest with himself, Harry hadn’t really thought much beyond Malfoy’s actions. He’d let himself assume that Malfoy just hated him despite it all. 

Harry took himself off to bed not too much later. Malfoy was in their dorm, sitting on his bed, scribbling on a piece of parchment. Harry wondered about what he was writing, who he was writing  _ to _ . He hadn’t looked up at Harry, and Harry thought he looked oddly innocent like this. Almost childlike sitting cross legged on his bed, blond hair falling into his eyes. The candlelight gave his face an almost ethereal glow, and his hair practically shone. How could he have ever described him as slimy?

Before he could even begin to understand why he was suddenly fixated by Malfoy’s hair, which now held a slight curl at the base of his neck, the boy in question looked up and snarled, “Can I help you, Potter?”.

Harry glared back, and set about getting ready for bed without answering. But from that night on, Harry found himself almost as obsessed with Malfoy as he had when they’d been teenagers.

 

As Harry’s Malfoy-senses were heightened, he began noticing how the boy acted. He was with Pansy and Blaise almost constantly when he was outside their dorm room, but very rarely looked like he was enjoying himself. He rarely spoke to or about Harry, as far as he’d heard, and his comments, though still delivered with a snarl, seemed rather lackluster, like his heart wasn’t in them. The time he spent in their dorm room was quiet, and tended not to acknowledge Harry’s existence unless provoked - which, Harry admitted, wasn’t hard to do. Harry had Hermione’s explanation rolling around in his head every time he looked over at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall at meal times, every time he noticed Malfoy’s blonde hair in his eyes while he studied on his bed. 

Eventually, he came to a decision.

“I want to be friends with Malfoy,” he announced one day at breakfast.

Ron spluttered into his orange juice, and Hermione patted him on the back while looking at Harry with an odd look on her face. Beside her, Seamus and Dean had barely looked over - Dean was whispering something into Seamus’ ear and Seamus was turning bright red. Harry felt a slight curiosity at what could be eliciting that reaction before he turned his attention back to the conversation at hand.

“I think he’s had a rough time of it, and he doesn’t look very happy. He’s not a Death Eater anymore, so why not?”

Ron looked at Harry like he had two heads, “Why not?? Because he’s Malfoy! He’s-” Ron’s arms flailed wildly as though he couldn’t communicate how ridiculous he found the idea.

“If that’s what you want to do, Harry, we’ll support you,” Hermione said graciously, her arms around Ron to stop him knocking over the pitcher of pumpkin juice.

“Thank you,” Harry said, ignoring Ron’s continued glaring. Now all he had to do was think of a game plan.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry didn’t get a chance to formulate and carry out a plan in the coming weeks, as their professors had apparently decided that they were ready to start doing NEWT past papers. They had one a week for most subjects and each took hours to do and check over. Harry was increasingly glad they’d befriended Hermione - she insisted on marking his and Ron’s papers, and often left helpful notes about the correct answers when they made a mistake.

They practically lived in the eighth year common room library, occasionally joined by Neville or Dean and Seamus. Hermione had struck up a close relationship with one of her roommates, Mandy, a Ravenclaw, with whom she appeared to share a joy of homework. Harry and Ron couldn’t understand it, but Harry found it remarkably easier to work when Hermione wasn’t frustratedly trying to explain something to him. She seemed to get all of that out of her system with Mandy and was decidedly more pleasant to be around after a study session that Harry and Ron weren’t invited to.

Meanwhile, Harry and Malfoy had fallen into a quiet rhythm in their dorm room. Since Harry had made the decision to befriend Malfoy, he’d avoided causing any reason for the blond to snarl at him. He got ready for bed without lingering, and muttered a goodnight when he went to bed. So far, his quiet ‘goodnight’s hadn’t been answered. Harry took the lack of a verbal retort as a victory, and tried to think of what he could say next.

One cold November morning, Harry woke feeling oddly hopeful. He had had some kind of dream that he couldn’t remember, but he knew that it hadn’t involved the war so he counted that as a win. 

“Morning, Malfoy!” he said, jumping out of bed. His roommate stood up straight next to his bed where he’d been collecting his clothes for the day, his eyes narrowed.

_ Oops, _ thought Harry, _ a little too enthusiastic. _ “Hey Malfoy,” he started again, slower this time, feeling like he was approaching a bird that was want to take flight, “Since we’re dormmates, and like, everything’s over,” Harry cringed a little internally at how lame he sounded, but kept going, “could we try first names?”

Malfoy - or Draco, now - just stared at Harry for an uncomfortably long time. Harry was itching to leave the room by the time Draco’s mouth formed the word “Why?”

Harry almost sighed with relief, “Because we live together, we see each other every day, I think we’re familiar enough for it. Just thought it would be good, you know… building bridges and all that.”

Draco’s eyes somehow narrowed even further, “Bridges”. Harry felt uncomfortably like he was being judged. “I suppose.”

Harry surprised himself with how wide he smiled upon hearing those words. Progress! 

“Excellent! See you at breakfast, Draco!” and he hurried to get ready for the day before Draco could take it back.

 

As the Christmas holidays drew nearer, Harry fell further and further behind in his schoolwork. Despite Hermione’s help and insistent prodding, Harry just didn’t understand half of the work they were doing, and felt like he had no idea where to start. He began procrastinating terribly, knowing that he’d only feel worse when he got into bed each night with the knowledge that he was only making things harder for himself. On one such night, Harry was so distracted with feelings of failure, and thoughts of what he should’ve done, that he climbed into bed without saying goodnight to Draco. After five minutes of lying in the dark, Harry heard Draco whisper “goodnight”. Harry almost thought he’d imagined it, but returned the sentiment equally quietly.

His thoughts shifted immediately to the other boy. How lonely he seemed. His heart swelled at the thought that Draco actually liked Harry saying goodnight to him every night. Maybe he’d start saying it back now. Harry’s anxiety mixed with thoughts of white-blond hair and he fell into a restless sleep where he dreamed of Fiendfyre. 

 

Harry felt closer and closer to breaking down as they neared the Christmas break, and he knew he had a lot to do before term started back in January. Hermione had noticed his anxiety and had begun pestering him with breathing exercises and to do lists which looked way too long for Harry to even begin to read without crying. It was a cold December evening when Harry decided he couldn’t take it and returned to his dorm after dinner rather than joining Ron and Hermione in the common room. He sat on his bed, focusing on breathing deeply and tried to make a to do list. Hermione was usually right, maybe if he knew what he had to do, he could get started and it wouldn’t be so scary. He wrote down each of his subjects as headings and underlined them with a shaky hand. Then he wrote ‘Other’ towards the bottom of the page, remembering all the careers consultations he’d had with McGonagall, remembering how he was meant to decide what to do with his life. How could he do that if he could barely keep up with his school work? Maybe he wasn’t cut out for anything.

Harry noticed Draco looking at him a couple of times from where he was working at his desk, and knew he probably looked a mess, but avoided making eye contact. He entertained the idea of getting up and closing the curtains around his bed, but couldn’t stand the thought of drawing more attention to himself. He’d just finished writing down three NEWT practice papers and two essays under ‘Charms’ when there was a knock on the door. Harry couldn’t help himself this time, and looked up and made contact with Draco. No one had ever knocked on their door before. Draco got up, apparently sensing that Harry was in no state for answering the door, and pulled the handle to reveal none other than Ron.

Ron made a vague noise of acknowledgement to Draco and then stalked past him to Harry, sitting on the edge of Seamus’ bed. 

“Hey,”

Harry sat up straighter and tried in vain to hide his shaky writing and unfinished to do list, “what’s up?”

“Um,” Ron fidgeted with Seamus’ pillow case for a moment, “I just wanted to talk, you know, we’re a little… worried,” he said lamely, glancing between Draco and Harry as though unsure how much he could say with Harry’s former rival in the room.

“Draco,” Harry said across the room, “would you prefer us to go talk somewhere else?”

Draco looked up momentarily from the parchment he was working on and said, “it’s fine”.

Harry fought the urge to tell Ron they should go somewhere else anyway, before remembering that Draco still thinks he’s had the perfect life. Maybe this would actually help. Still, he couldn’t help the lump in his throat and the sick feeling in his stomach as he looked back at Ron.

“Okay,” the redhead began, and Harry was grateful he hadn’t said anything about the fact that he’d used Draco’s first name, “Hermione’s really worried about you and your anxiety,” Ron made eye contact as though looking for a reaction, “and I am too, mate, I mean, I know we’re all a bit screwed up after everything, but we’re really worried about your NEWTs if you still want to be an Auror.”

Ron ended his sentence and looked questioningly at Harry, clearly expecting him to say something.

“I don’t know,” Harry all but whispered, chest tight, “I don’t know if I can handle being an Auror. I don’t know if I want to be an Auror. The war wasn’t exactly  _ fun _ , Ron. Catching dark wizards sounds all fine in theory but in reality, it’s just more curses flying everywhere, isn’t it? I have no idea, Ron, I don’t know,” Harry could feel himself struggling to keep composed. He knew he was going to start crying at any second and tried as hard as he could not to.

“I know it’s stupid, but I feel…” he took a deep breath, his only goal getting this sentence out without sobbing, “I feel overwhelmed, like I can’t do  _ anything  _ and I know there’s so much I have to do but it’s  _ hard _ and I feel  _ stupid _ and I don’t even know what I’m working towards, I don’t see the point, I don’t know, I don’t know…” Harry let himself fall apart, and buried his head in his pillow.

Ron didn’t say anything for a moment, and Harry felt useless and stupid and awful for putting this on him. Harry felt Ron’s weight land at the foot of his bed and a tentative hand on his back as it rubbed in slow circles. After a long minute, Harry got his breathing under control and wiped his eyes and nose on his pillowcase before taking a deep breath and sitting up.

He’d barely gotten his balance when Ron pulled him into a hug. Harry could count the number of times they’d hugged on one hand, but it was exactly what he needed at that moment. 

“I’m sorry about Hermione,” Ron said, and Harry had not been expecting that at all, “I know she’s a bit overbearing sometimes and I can’t imagine that’s helpful.” 

Harry let out a strangled laugh cross sob and Ron smiled at him.

“I’m happy to help though, if you want me to, I mean, I’m not always the best at this stuff, but I’ve got no idea what I want to do either, so maybe we can look at jobs together? And Merlin knows I’ve still got tonnes of homework to catch up on.”

Harry nodded. This might be okay.

Ron stayed for a while longer, awkwardly at first, but then he segued into a dramatic retelling of a game of exploding snap he’d played with Ginny which had ended in her specialty - a Bat Bogey Hex - that had somehow hit a nearby second year. By the time he was finished, both of them were crying with laughter.

“I’d better go down,” Ron said, casting a quick Tempus charm to see the time, “I told Hermione I was just coming up to ask you something and that was like two hours ago. You’re spending Christmas at mine, aren’t you?”

Harry hesitated, but then nodded. “If that’s okay, I mean.”

Ron shook his head, “Mate, it’s your home too. We’re your family, don’t be silly. You’d be getting a howler if you stayed at school.”

Harry smiled, knowing it was true, and waved Ron out of the dormitory, feeling lighter that he had in months. Maybe everything would be okay.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry was afraid that Draco listening in on his entire soul-bearing conversation with Ron might’ve made things weird between them, shattered whatever polite acquaintance they had managed to form. On the contrary though, something seemed to have changed within Draco. He went from seeming curious and appearing indifferent to seeming concerned and appearing indifferent.

They still didn’t say much other than ‘goodnight’ for the next month, but there were signs they were moving towards actual friendship. Harry had taken to bringing Draco something back every time he went to the kitchens, and Draco in turn had “accidentally” been asking the house elves for two cups on his tea tray in the morning on the weekends.

Harry was making a conscious effort to spend more time with Draco. It was frustrating studying in his room, when he knew his friends were downstairs being much less productive, but having much less fun. But, on the other hand, spending so much time in the room with Draco taught Harry a great deal about the blond. For one, Draco tended to chew the ends of quills when he was having trouble with his homework. For this reason, Harry assumed, he had a seemingly endless supply of them in his desk drawer. Draco also liked listening to muggle music, which surprised Harry quite a lot. He’d somehow hooked up the old wireless in the dorms - there’d been one in the Gryffindor dorms, too, but Harry had never even considered that it was still functional - and played music through a cord from his phone quietly as he studied.

One particular Tuesday evening, Harry was sitting on his bed with parchment strewn around him, the first three words (“A moonstone is”) of his potions essay standing out against the blank parchment which sat crooked where it had started falling down his lap. He’d begun his essay about 20 minutes ago and just didn’t have the motivation to continue it. Instead, his eyes had flit, as they were often wont to do, over to Draco. Draco’s blond hair was falling into his eyes as he wrote, smooth and swift across the parchment. The wireless was playing tunes, barely audible over the sound of breathing and writing.

“Hey, Draco?” Harry took a chance. He held his breath, suddenly scared that the first name thing was too intimate, or that interrupting his essay writing was a death sentence. Draco raised a finger slightly and finished writing his sentence before turning and looking straight at Harry with one eyebrow raised.

“Yes?”

“Uh…” Harry hadn’t thought this far ahead. _Fuck_. “What song are we listening to?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed slightly and he reached over to his bed where his phone lay. “It’s called ‘I Want To Write You A Song’,” he read.

“I like it,” Harry felt braver now, knowing that Draco seemed to be amenable to at least basic requests. “The artist?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed even more and he paused mid-movement. After a beat, he arranged himself sitting tall in his chair, “how much do you know about muggle music?”

Harry, surprised with the sudden interrogation, almost shouted “nothing! I mean, I’ve heard of, like, the Beatles, but I couldn’t name any of their songs”

Draco nodded slightly. “It’s by a band named One Direction.”

Harry, still slightly shaken, took a minute to realise that Draco was now answering his original question, seemingly satisfied with his lack of musical knowledge. Odd.

After a moment’s hesitation, Harry muttered his thanks and shoved his papers onto his bedside table in lieu of actually packing them away neatly. He arrived downstairs to the sight of Ron beating Seamus spectacularly at Wizards’ Chess.

“Hey,” Harry sat down opposite Dean, who was somewhat sarcastically consoling Seamus. “Have any of you guys heard of One Direction?”.

The boys looked at each other and shrugged. “What even is that?” Ron said, a slight snarl to his lip as though anything unknown was disgusting.

“A muggle band, apparently,” Harry hesitated, then added, “just overheard a couple of people talking about them, was curious.”

Another series of shrugs went round the table.

 

Weeks passed in a similar manner. A mind-boggling amount of time was spent with Harry and Draco alone in their room studying. Draco turned the music up ever so slightly when a One Direction song came on, and Harry attempted small talk with relative frequency. Once or twice, Harry thought he caught Draco looking at him with a sad look on his face.

 

It was a Thursday morning in November when Harry woke feeling down. They’d had assignments after assignments, in class test after in class test, and his time with his friends had been minimal because it seemed like much more effort to spend time surrounded by people in the common room compared to his quiet solitude with Draco. Harry woke up at his usual time, the sun streaming through the curtains indicating that breakfast was certainly already underway, and he rolled over, not even managing a groan as he did so. He snaked his hand out from underneath the blanket to grab at his phone. He was getting better at regularly checking it after Sirius had firecalled, panicked, in the middle of the night because Harry hadn’t answered his texts for a whole week. He saw (1) unread message from Remus. This time he did manage a small groan as he let the phone fall from his hand and onto the floor. He felt a lump in his throat. He can’t ignore the message for long, but he also couldn’t bear to answer the inevitable “how are you?”s - “how are exams going?”, “how are Ron and Hermione?”, “how is sharing with Malfoy?”.

Harry felt almost paralysed as he lay in bed for far too long, tucked under the covers but feeling the opposite of safe. He heard Draco moving about the room and a curiosity about why he was still here so late flitted through his mind before being filled with anxiety and insecurity once again. The words “I don’t know what to do” flooded through his mind like a never-ending news ticker. _I don’t know what to say about why I was late to breakfast. I don’t know enough Transfiguration. I don’t know how I’ll ever pass the quiz. I don’t know what to reply to Remus with. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know._

Harry felt acutely aware that time was continuing without him, and he grew more anxious by the second. _Now it’s too late to even have a shower if I want to get to breakfast at all. Now it’s too late to have breakfast, I’ll have to run straight to class. Now I’ll be late for class even if I was already dressed._

Harry didn’t know how long he lay there, only that time had continued moving and it was too late for him to do anything about it. Just as he was trying to resign himself to calling today a complete write-off, Harry heard the dormitory door open and Draco’s footsteps as he left the room. A minute later, he heard it open again. He felt his heart rate spike- _was that Draco?_ He’d stopped paying attention, _Had Draco left, was he still there? Had he invited friends over?_

Thankfully, it was Hermione. Harry felt instantly slightly calmer when he saw her bushy hair pushing through the gap in his curtains. Figures he hadn’t even closed his curtains properly. He couldn’t do anything right.

“Harry?” she all but whispered.

Harry tried to speak but knew that it’d come out as a sob if he tried. He kept his mouth shut.

“Are you okay?”

He shifted his head slightly to get a better look at her. As he moved, he felt wetness on his pillow from tears he hadn’t realised had fallen. He knew he looked pathetic, knew his eyes were too large, too pleading to play it off as sleeping in. Instead, Harry made eye contact with Hermione for a brief second, and buried his head back into his pillow which suddenly felt too lumpy, too warm, too wet. It was only after a moment’s fixation on the state of his bedding that he realised Draco had been standing right behind Hermione. He felt a wave of guilt, had he forced Draco to stay? Manipulated him into getting Hermione because he looked so pathetic? Was Draco missing class right now and it was all Harry’s fault? Harry took a breath and it got caught somewhere high in his chest.

The bed groaned slightly as Hermione perched on the edge. Harry felt a hand rest lightly on his back and tears threaten to leak out of his eyes again.

“Sit up, Harry”. He didn’t have the energy to disobey.

He moved slowly, and eventually was seated with terrible posture, lower back not quite touching the headboard. A glass of water was put into his hand and he drank it gratefully. He hadn’t realised how dehydrated he was. Then again, he hadn’t realised a lot of things going on in the real world.

He tried to focus on his surroundings, and heard Draco moving around beyond the thin strip of room visible between the curtains Hermione had pushed aside. After a moment, music began to fill the room. Harry unsuccessfully tried to hold in a sob as he realised what it was.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, I thought you’d like…” _I Want To Write You A Song_ stopped and Draco’s panicked face appeared as he jerked the curtain aside.

“No, no,” Harry’s voice was hoarse, “I do, I like it.”

Draco looked hesitant, and then slowly turned the music back on. Harry managed a small smile for him, and Draco looked somewhat relieved, though he didn’t move from where he was standing next to the wireless.

Harry, after soft reassurances and tight hugs from Hermione, managed to shower and get dressed. He emerged from the bathroom, slightly surprised that Draco was still there.

“What time is it?”

“We’ve only missed our first class, but Mal- Draco and I have already talked to McGonagall, so don’t worry about that” Hermione said, then hesitated, “do you want to talk about this morning?”

Harry shook his head, “I’m okay, I just… I don’t know. Broke.”

Hermione grimaced at this, and gave him another hug unsolicited. Draco’s face didn’t change from pretending-to-be-too-cool-for-this concern.

They separated from Draco to go to their next class and Harry spent much of it in a daze. He began feeling better around lunchtime, and got the courage to message Remus back between afternoon classes. By the time he got back to his the common room after dinner, he was almost okay. It was only then that he realised he hadn’t seen Draco since this morning.

 

Draco was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room when Harry climbed the stairs to the dormitory. Harry had seen Draco relaxed plenty of times, had seen him stressed, and angry, but never nervous like this.

“Harry,” Harry had barely had a chance to fully enter the room when Draco began. Harry got the feeling he’d been rehearsing and found it oddly endearing. “I just wanted to say, I hope you’re feeling better than you were this morning - though I must admit I don’t really understand what happened - and apologise for staying around, and for bringing Granger up here. It wasn’t really my place to interfere. Though,” he paused slightly, “I am glad to see you’re looking better.”

Draco let out a shaky breath and Harry looked on in surprise.

“Anxiety stuff, I guess,” Harry said, feeling somehow like he’d jumped straight into the middle of a serious conversation, “depression, I think. Hermione keeps talking about post traumatic stress, but I don’t know… with the war, I guess…”

Harry sat down on his bed, eyes averted from where Draco still stood.

“I don’t quite understand,” Draco said, quietly, as though speaking to a wild creature that might rear up at any second.

Harry looked up at him, searching for any sign that he might be making fun, or gathering knowledge to use against him. Seeing only earnest confusion, Harry scooted over slightly and patted the bed next to him.

Draco paused for the smallest of milliseconds before sitting himself cross-legged right next to Harry.

“It’s…” Harry wasn’t sure how to begin. “So, I don’t really know how much you know about, well, me,” Harry cringed inside as soon as he said it. The whole damn wizarding world knew too much about him, if anything. “I mean, before Hogwarts,” he looked at Draco, expecting an answer.

“Not a lot, I mean, I’ve overheard you… you know, when you talk to your godfather, or Weasley, but I don’t- I wasn’t meaning to listen in, I don’t know much…”

 _Draco was somewhat adorable flustered,_ Harry thought, then quickly locked that thought in the ‘for later’ box in his mind.

“Well, my parents died, that much you know,” Draco let out a small chuckle but stifled it quickly, “It’s okay. Well, after that, Dumbledore moved me to my only living relatives - my mum’s sister and her husband. Only, they were muggles and they were awful. They hated me, and they hated magic. Abused me for a decade, until I finally got my letter. Even then, they still kept me locked up all summer.”

Draco looked silently stunned.

“Anyway,” Harry rushed, wanting to get that look off his roommate’s face, “I reckon - and Hermione agrees - that that caused a bunch of problems, like, just anxiety and depression stuff. Lots of intrusive thoughts telling me I’m worthless, lots of worries about insignificant things, you know?”

Draco’s eyes were as wide as saucers now, and Harry was afraid tears were going to start falling out of them if he didn’t finish speaking soon. Words already rushed, he tried to speak faster, tangling his fingers in a loose thread of his doona cover as he did so.

“Well, I mean, that’s shit but I dealt with it, but then the war kind of made everything worse, as you can imagine,” he let out a dark chuckle, “and sometimes I just can’t get out of my own head. I get stuck in a cycle of these thoughts. Hermione says muggles have medicine for it, but I don’t know. I guess I’m kind of just hoping it’ll disappear eventually?”

Draco nodded slowly, still looking taken aback. Harry was struck by the thought then that he may have just fucked everything up. He and Draco weren’t even really friends yet, had he come on too strong?

Draco looked down at his hands as he answered Harry, and it was the most sincere Harry had ever heard him, “I don’t think I can completely understand how bad it is for you, Pot- Harry, but I can relate to some parts of what you said.”

Harry was about to interrupt, to ask Draco to expand on that. Maybe they could start off their friendship with a deep and meaningful, secure it. But Draco plowed on, as though keen to move past what he’d just revealed.

“So was it- I mean, what do you want me to do? Like, this morning, I knew you weren’t okay but I didn’t know what to do,” Draco seemed to come back to himself then, and he sat a little straighter, looked Harry in the eye and said, “We need a plan, Potter.”

Harry smiled wide. “Usually I just need someone to snap me out of it a bit, like Hermione did this morning- get me water, make me shower, whatever. Remind me that the world doesn’t revolve around me and my problems aren’t that important, y’know?”

Draco smirked at that and Harry could practically hear his drawl _Harry Potter finally realising the world doesn’t revolve around him, the world must be ending!_

“So, it was good you got Hermione this morning. Thank you.”

“Okay. Good.”

Draco suddenly looked very uneasy sitting on Harry’s bed, now that the conversation had apparently reached its natural end. Harry resisted the urge to hug Draco’s worries away - _what? You’re going insane, Potter -_ and made some excuse about going to brush his teeth just to defuse the situation.


	7. Chapter 7

 

In the weeks that followed, Harry and Draco talked more frequently. Not about anything serious, really - Harry kind of thought they’d used up their lifetime’s supply of serious chats - but they talked about homework, classes, sometimes gossiped about their classmates (not that Draco would ever admit that that’s what they were doing). They frequently listened to One Direction together and more than once spent time sitting together on Harry’s bed while they studied.

Draco became Harry’s partner in Potions by default. Ron had Hermione, Blaise had Pansy, Seamus had Dean, everyone seemed pretty well paired off. Harry didn’t mind, really, but he did feel a small sense of unease the first time they unpacked their books together at the cauldron they shared. They hadn’t really spent any time together outside of their dorm room, had barely even exchanged a word in front of anyone except sometimes Seamus when they said goodnight. Harry wasn’t sure what to do. Moreso, Harry wasn’t sure what Draco would want him to do, talk or not talk, and asking him that now seemed like a decision in and of itself. So, Harry resigned to acting cordial. He asked Draco to pass the flobberworm mucus, but didn’t comment when Mandy and Susan walked in late holding hands (even though he and Draco had been betting for weeks how long it would take them to become official). His sense of anxiety only rose as the lesson went on, the comfortable silence they enjoyed in their dorm room replaced by a tense silence of two people who don’t quite know how to act around each other.

“Oi Harry,” Seamus caught up with Harry as he was walking out of the dungeon classroom behind Ron and Hermione, “I thought Ron said you and Malfoy were done with that hating each other thing,” he let out what Harry was pretty sure was meant to be a chortle, “I told him, looks like I’ll be keeping out of your hair ‘round the dorms until I get proof I’m not going to wake up to a duel at 3am.” He smiled widely at Harry, laughing as though they were in on an inside joke, and ran off before Harry had a chance to reply. As Harry watched Seamus round the corner, whispering with Dean, Harry suddenly felt furious that that was still how everyone saw them.  _ That hating each other thing. Still enemies!  _ Harry changed course from where he was following his best friends to the lake to relax in their free period, and instead climbed the stairs towards the eighth year dormitories. He couldn’t pretend, even to himself, that neither Ron nor Hermione noticing his absence didn’t hurt.

Harry found Draco quite predictably sitting at his desk in their dorm room.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Draco didn’t turn around but Harry didn’t hear any malice in his voice.

“Uh, are you mad at me or something?”

Draco did turn around at this, his eyes narrowed. “Should I be?”

Harry almost laughed at how quickly Draco had gone straight to suspicion, but the lump in his throat wouldn’t let him.

“No, I just mean… potions was weird.”

Draco cocked his head slightly to one side, “I’m not sure I’m entirely to blame here,”

“No! No, of course not! I just- I don’t know. Are we good?”

“We’re fine, Harry,” Harry’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of Draco’s voice saying his name, “I thought perhaps you didn’t want your precious Gryffindors knowing you were being friendly with a Death Eater.”

Draco practically spat those last words and Harry felt a wave of guilt crash over him- How could he still be underestimating the effect the war had had on Draco?

“You’re not a Death Eater,” he said, as fiercely as he could muster, “and if my friends doubt my judgement that much, I’m not sure I’d want to be friends with them anyway.”

Draco looked at Harry in silence for a moment. “Admirable,” he said eventually.

Harry couldn’t quite figure out whether he was being made fun of or not. He chose to move on rather than dwell.

“So,” Harry hesitated. This could either be great or absolutely terrible, “Ron and Hermione and I planned to sit near the lake this free period and just hang out. Do you want to come meet them?”

“Harry,” Draco looked horrified, and Harry was sure for a second that he’d said the complete wrong thing, “it’s fucking freezing.”

Harry really did laugh out loud this time.

“It’ll be fine. Hermione does these cool fire jars, and Ron’s actually bomb at warming charms. Think his ire for cold fuels him a bit.”

Draco hesitated, and then got up from his chair, “Okay, just give me a minute to get ready.”

Harry was torn between nervous and giddily happy as he watched Draco put on what seemed like every coat in their room, then layer on top at least three scarves. They eventually made their way out of the eighth year common room and down towards the Great Lake. Harry was struck by an urge to reach out for Draco’s gloved hand as they walked and he thanked Merlin that he resisted. He didn’t really need to make this awkward before they’d even gotten down to Ron and Hermione.

From a distance, they could see Harry’s friends by the lake, sitting on a large blanket. Ron was leaning against an old oak tree, his legs sprawled in front of him. Hermione was sitting cross legged, a book on her knee. They seemed to be having a calm conversation, and Harry felt a great sense of happiness that he would soon be joining them, and that Draco had agreed to come. As they approached however, Ron caught sight of them and sat straight up.

“Harry. What’s he doing here?”

Hermione slapped him hard on the thigh.

“I invited him, he’s my friend,” Harry glared at Ron for a moment and then sat down, indicated to Draco that he should sit next to him. Draco’s face had gone whiter than normal, and Harry felt bad for how tense he was.

“Nice to see you, Draco,” Hermione said, completely ignoring Ron who was making the most indignant face he could, “that arithmancy paper was difficult, wasn’t it?”

Harry watched as Draco’s face relaxed a fraction and he began talking with Hermione.

Thirty seconds into their polite conversation though, Ron got up, threw a filthy look at Harry and Draco and stormed off towards the castle. Hermione looked pained as her eyes followed him. Harry felt anger rising in his chest. Couldn’t he at least  _ pretend _ to be a polite normal human being for one hour?

“I’m sorry about Ron,” Hermione said quietly, “he’s not really gotten over his grudge against you. I honestly think it’s a bit of a coping thing, you know, rather than admit and deal with things being different now.”

Draco’s lips formed a tight line as he attempted to smile at Hermione. Harry was torn between wanting to go after Ron and give him a piece of his mind, and hugging Draco. 

“Thank you, Hermione. I’m sure he’ll come around.” His voice was doubtful but neither Harry nor Hermione said anything. Harry stood up.

“No, this is bullshit. He needs to be able to respect you enough to deal with an hour of polite conversation, or he needs to fuck off. I’ll see you in Transfiguration, Hermione.”

With that, Harry walked as quickly as he could towards the Castle. As he pushed his way into the eighth year common room, he saw Ron standing by the fire, talking to Dean. 

“Ron!” Harry had barely gotten both feet inside when he started yelling, “What the hell are you playing at?”

“What am I playing at?! What are you doing? Did you forget that we hate Death Eaters? Did you forget all the times they tried to kill you? Did you forget the people they  _ did _ kill? Did you forget Fred? Dobby? Colin?  _ Your parents _ ? I’m sorry, but I’m not going to fucking forget all that because one of them is pretty. Fuck you.”

Harry didn’t even remotely have time to parse that ‘pretty’ comment, he was so angry at everything else Ron had said.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Draco isn’t a goddamn Death Eater, he was a  _ child _ , he was threatened, he was  _ tortured _ . You can’t tell me you wouldn’t have done things you didn’t want to in those circumstances. He didn’t fucking kill  _ anyone _ .”

“Oh please! He just didn’t have the fucking chance.”

Harry lunged at Ron, and managed to punch him right in the face before Dean pulled him back. Harry looked up at Ron who was being held back by Lavender.

“I trust him,” Harry spat out, “and until you can be a polite human being to him, I don’t want to talk to you.” He pulled his way out of Dean’s grip and went up to his room. 

Somehow, the room felt empty without Draco in it.

Harry cried himself to sleep and missed both Transfiguration and Charms. 


	8. Chapter 8

NEWTS were fast approaching and the short Christmas break looked more like some horrid study vacation in the Eighth Year Common Room. Most students, Hermione included, had opted to stay behind rather than lose a week of cramming, the only exceptions being those who had lost family members in the war and didn’t want to miss any family time. Naturally, that meant Ron had gone. Harry relished in the fact that he could now spend time with Hermione without first checking that Ron wasn’t around, though he did feel a sort of longing for the Weasley Christmas he was missing.

He, Hermione and Draco quickly formed an odd sort of trio around Hogwarts during break. They were frequently seen in the eighth year library, or under the large oak by the lake, accompanied by Hermione’s little blue flame. They were often joined by Mandy and Susan or Dean and Seamus, but their activities were almost entirely based around their upcoming exams. 

A couple of days before Christmas (“Happy Christmas Eve Eve!” Hermione had greeted them joyfully that morning), the new trio were in the library. They’d been there for at least two hours, surrounded by large tomes and scraps of parchment paper. Harry, however, had barely accomplished anything. He looked at the books open in front of him, full of words he didn’t know, and the parchment, mocking in its blankness. He felt his chest tighten and suddenly it was harder to breathe. He focused on stopping the tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes and looked up for something with which to distract himself. His eyes, however, only found Hermione and Draco. Hermione was on at least her 5th sheet of parchment, and Draco didn’t look far behind. Their neat cursive blurred into each other and Harry felt crushed by the weight of his own inadequacy. He put his head down onto his arms on the desk to hide his panicked face, but he couldn’t hide the way his shoulders rose and fell with too-quick breaths. He registered the change when Hermione and Draco’s quills stopped writing, but didn’t look up when he heard Hermione’s bench move. A hand on his back began rubbing in circles, and Harry willed himself to focus on breathing in time with it. He waited until he’d calmed enough to look up, not entirely surprised to find that the hand had been Draco’s. He was surprised, however, to find that Hermione was nowhere in sight. 

“Hey,” Draco said, softer than Harry had ever heard him, “you okay?”

Harry shrugged, then almost laughed at how inadequate a response that would be after the little display he’d just put on. “Exam stress I guess, I just…” he took a deep breath, “I feel like you and Hermione have got this shit sorted, look at how much you’ve done, I’m going to fucking fail and everyone’s going to hear about it - _ good enough to kill Voldemort but not to pass high school exams? What is the truth? _ ” he laughed humorlessly at his own joke. 

“Harry,” Draco looked at him, “you know I’m studying this hard because I feel like I know  _ nothing _ , right? I know you think I don’t answer questions in class because I think I’m too cool for school or something, but I really just don’t know the answers 98% of the time. Please, look at what I’ve been writing.”

Harry took the parchment from Draco, still not convinced that Draco wasn’t the too-cool-for-school-but-actually-really-smart stereotype he was in his head, but when he looked down he was confused. On the paper was the very first topic they’d studying in Herbology this year. Draco had clearly been going through his notes and the textbook to try and come up with answers to questions that Harry could’ve known the answers to in his sleep.

“What…”

“I’m decent at potions, and alright at transfiguration, but I am rubbish at herbology. I don’t know why, it never sticks. I’ve been working on this for two hours, still don’t have it all memorised, by the way, and I am willing to bet you already knew most of these answers.”

Harry’s face burned as he nodded in reluctant agreement.

“It’s okay to be crap, Harry, what matters is that you try,” Draco said, and Harry felt like he was (mis-) quoting something.

“I don’t know where to start,” Harry admitted after a minute.

“Well that’s easy!” Draco smiled, much too big for Harry’s liking, “Start at the very beginning, a very good place to start!” Harry was certain this time that that was a quote. How many obscure references had Harry missed? Did Draco do this in every conversation?

While he was pondering, Draco had grabbed a clean piece of parchment and was drawing up a list. When Harry leaned down to read it properly, he found all the subjects he was studying reflected back at him. Over the next half hour, they discussed how many NEWTs Harry needed to be an Auror (though Harry neglected to mention that he wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted to do anymore), which subjects he found the hardest, and which subjects he enjoyed. Draco was beautifully methodical, and Harry found himself wondering if he was this organised in all aspects of his life. He shook the urge to go check out Draco’s sock drawer, and they decided Harry would start on Transfiguration. He began with Draco’s approach - starting from the very beginning - and was actually almost enjoying working through the first topic they’d studied. He knew they’d studied concepts much harder than this, but the knowledge that he’d get at least a few marks in his NEWTs if he knew this stuff like the back of his hand spurred him on. The One Direction music playing in the background didn’t hurt either.

Harry was well into the second topic when Hermione returned. She carried a tray of tea and pastries, and looked pleased to find Harry and Draco working and in good spirits.

Harry almost asked her where, or rather, why, she’d gone, but he didn’t have the patience to listen to her cryptic excuses that knew he didn’t have the brainpower for right now.

 

Christmas at Hogwarts was exactly as Harry had remembered it. 

He woke up early on Christmas morning to a small mound of packages at the end of his bed, and yelled for Draco to wake up as well. Harry’s packages included a Weasley jumper - red with a snitch on it - and box of Honeydukes finest chocolates with a card that said  _ ‘love, the Weasleys’ _ , a book entitled ‘ _ The Night Before Essay Planner’  _ from Hermione - which Harry had to admit looked useful - and a new set of nice quills and inks from Sirius and Remus.

Draco only had one gift at the end of his bed on Christmas morning - a very soft looking scarf and glove set from his parents.

“Merry Christmas, Draco!” Harry said, dumping another package on his roommate’s bed. Draco looked at it in surprise.

“You got me a present?”

“You’re my friend,” Harry said, like that explained everything. And maybe it did. 

Draco unwrapped the paper carefully and pulled it aside to reveal a life-size snitch.

“It’s like an organiser,” Harry said hurriedly, “you can tell it the things you need to get done, and it’ll write them on your to do list or in your notebook or wherever you want. And it’s soft, it’s meant to be good for playing with, like a stressball.”

Draco looked down at the snitch and gave it an experimental squeeze. He then lifted it to his mouth and whispered, “thank Potter,”. They both watched as the words appeared at the bottom of the list on Draco’s desk.

“Thankyou Harry,” Draco said sincerely, and Harry smiled all the way down to breakfast.

The Eighth years spent the day in the common room, playing all manner of board games. Some, like Twister, Harry had heard of, but others were completely bamboozling.

A magical version of mousetrap, which included a live mouse, had Lavender screaming, and by the end of the day everyone was exhausted but happy. Even Draco had participated in the most undignified game of Twister and become most upset when he hadn’t won Monopoly.

They spent Christmas dinner around a large table of students and professors, the Great Hall decked out with 12 stunning Christmas trees - each with a different style and colour scheme. As Harry changed into his pyjamas, he thought he wouldn’t mind living here forever.

“Goodnight, Harry”

“Merry Christmas, Draco”

 

Harry had fully intended to continue ignoring Ron when he got back, but he didn’t get the chance. Ron made it back to Hogwarts and made a beeline straight for the eighth year common room, where Harry was working through potions with Draco on a couch by the fire.

Harry looked up, surprised, when Ron cleared his throat to announce his arrival. 

“Can we help you?”

“I just wanted to say,” Ron began hurriedly, and Harry got the impression this was going to be a well-rehearsed speech, “I’m sorry for being so close-minded. You and I have been friends for years, and I do trust your judgement. You’re family, and it was stupid of me to try and throw it away over something like this, especially without giving you a chance to talk to me. And, I’m sorry for the argument in the common room. I didn’t mean anything I said. I guess I’ve still got some issues to work though. Friends?”

Harry nodded dumbly. Although rehearsed, Ron seemed genuine. Ron breathed a sigh of relief and then turned to Draco, whose eyes had narrowed at the redhead.

“Malfoy, I’m sorry for making assumptions on your character based on rumours I’d heard about things you may or may not have done during a very stressful time for everyone. If you’re important to Harry, and he trusts you, I’d like the chance to get to know you properly.”

Draco nodded slowly, “Thank you, Weasley.”

Harry decided that now was not the moment to ask them to use each other’s first names, and instead just watched as Ron climbed the stairs to the boys’ dormitories, removing his scarf and leaving a trail of snow behind him.

“So,” Draco’s bitter voice brought Harry back to reality, “am I supposed to just pretend he didn’t tell the whole common room I’m a Death Eater or what?”

“No, of course not, but I think he’s being sincere,” Harry rubbed the back of his neck, “he can be a bit hot headed, but if he’s actually apologising, he’s probably going to try and make it better properly.”

“Mm,” Draco sounded unconvinced, “we’ll see.”

“Suppose so.”

 

Classes began again the next day, and, with them, the last two weeks before NEWTs officially started. Harry was feeling the strain and was immensely glad to have Ron back. He wasn’t as good for study tips as Hermione was, and didn’t quite have the knack for calming Harry down like Draco did, but he always arrived to their study sessions with an offering from the kitchens.

Just as Harry had hoped, Ron had been trying really hard to make things right with Draco. He’d even tried to offer Draco his potions notes, before realising that Draco’s were much more in depth and much easier to read. Harry was just glad he was around. He offered a bit of comic relief in an otherwise grim time period. Draco had warmed to him too, thankfully. Maybe because Ron had been quieter than usual when Draco was around (which was pretty much all the time, Harry had to admit), and hadn’t managed to say anything even remotely offensive. He also avoided talking at all about the war, which Harry suspected might have been Hermione’s influence. Nevertheless, Harry was grateful for the ability to concentrate on his studies without having to deal with nightmares as well. Now all his dreams were about failing exams or turning up late in his underwear. Normal stuff, he supposed. It was weird to feel normal for once.

Since Harry and Draco were spending so much time with Ron and Hermione (and occasionally some of the other eighth years), they’d barely had any time alone together. Harry supposed it didn’t matter, considering that they would’ve just been studying in their room together anyway. Despite this, he did feel a sense of loss. He chalked it down to feeling special because he was Draco’s only friend. He should be glad that Draco had other friends now, shouldn’t he?

The tiny amount of time before exams began passed in a blur of parchment and library books. Harry didn’t know how he could possibly memorise any more obscure potions ingredients, and yet still felt impossibly unprepared. 

Draco disappeared after his first exam on the Monday, and Harry found him in bed at three in the afternoon.

“You okay, Draco?”

Draco shrugged under the covers, “fine.”

“Well that’s bullshit,” Harry said, sitting down at Draco’s feet, “What do you need?”

“Just...need some time to myself. Please.”

“Of course. I’ll bring you up some dinner later?”

Draco didn’t answer that, and Harry supposed it wasn’t really a question. He took himself and his books down to the little library and began outlining the possible complications of transfiguring a muggle electronic to a magical device. Dean and Seamus joined him after about half an hour, and Harry ignored Seamus’ comment about how well he and Draco were getting along now. He was vaguely aware enough to pray silently that Seamus wouldn’t start sleeping in his own bed more frequently again. Their “goodnight”s were about the only thing he and Draco had that was theirs now. 

Harry followed them down to dinner after a while, his head swimming with the kinds of things you’d find in Arthur Weasley’s garage. He sat mindlessly next to Hermione, and tried to listen as she listed the common mistakes most students made in transfiguration essays. He supposed he was about to make every single one of them the next day. 

He took a plate of dinner up to Draco that evening, as promised, and fell into bed without even taking off his shoes, mind racing of magic and muggle and parchment and what if his quill broke, and mistakes and examiners.

“Goodnight, Harry.” Draco’s voice broke through his panic and he’d never been so grateful to hear it.

He sat up and pulled his shoes and pants off.

“Goodnight, Draco.”

 

The transfiguration exam went okay, and, by that evening, Harry was feeling even optimistic about the rest of his exams. That was helped by Ron having made Hermione promise not to discuss exam questions with anyone except Mandy, who actually seemed to love dissecting the paper as much as Hermione did. 

Harry barely saw Draco for the next two weeks of exams. He preferred to stay in their dorm to study, and said he’d rather be alone. Harry didn’t let himself dwell on it, and focused wholly on studying. Being friends with Hermione made that part easy, at least. 

 

Finally, they walked out of their Charms exam into a beautiful dusky sky. 

“We’re done!!” Ron hollered to the sky, arms open, before flopping down into the snow.

Harry heard himself laugh out loud as he fell down next to Ron. Hermione conjured a blanket and sat daintily next to them, but she was smiling just as wide.

 

Ron and Hermione headed straight for the fire to warm up when they got back to their common room, but Harry made a beeline for the stairs that lead up to his and Draco’s (and Seamus’, he supposed) dorm. He found Draco standing at the end of his bed, looking somewhat critically at a mound of possessions laid out neatly on his bed.

Harry, euphoria still lingering from finishing exams, reached out for Draco and pulled him into a tight hug without thinking about it. Draco tensed for a moment, enough for Harry to start panicking that this was way  _ too much _ but then relaxed and hugged Harry back. Harry thought this was the best calming technique Draco could’ve ever used, why hadn’t they been doing this for weeks??

Their hug was too short ( _ any length hug would’ve been too short _ , Harry thought, somewhat bitterly despite the fact that he was practically walking on air), but they shared a small smile as they pulled apart. 

“What are you doing?” Harry settled on the end of his own bed to watch Draco ponder his belongings some more.

“Packing,” Draco said, somewhat shortly.

“Oh,” Harry hadn’t even begun to think about packing, about  _ leaving _ . They were leaving Hogwarts. For good this time. He looked around the room. There were clothes hanging on the end of his bed, posters on the walls, and various knick-knacks on every surface possible.  _ Packing. _

A problem for a later time, Harry decided.

_ Draco packing,  _ however, that was a problem for now. “When do you leave?”

“Catching the train back with everyone on Sunday, same as you, I imagine?”

Harry nodded, “okay.”

He had completely run out of things to say. Sunday. The day after tomorrow. He had barely two days to get packed up and say goodbye to what had been his home for the last eight years. 

He got up, mumbled, “I’ll leave you to it,” and stumbled down the stairs to collapse onto the couch next to Ron.

“We have to pack,” He grumbled.

“Well yes,” Hermione said, “you haven’t started?”

Harry looked at her, eyes bugging out of his head. Of course she’d started.

“I can’t believe we’re leaving,”

Hermione looked at him like he was crazy, “I put this in your calendar at the beginning of the year!”

Harry didn’t feel like mentioning that that was the last time he’d looked at said calendar, instead opting for, “yeah. Like, I knew it was coming, but then I got so focused on NEWTs and it kind of took me by surprise when I saw Draco packing.”

“Oh,” Hermione got a weird twinkle in her eye that Harry really wasn’t in the mood to analyse.

“Well, don’t worry Harry. We’ve got all day tomorrow to prepare to leave. And then we’re all heading back to the Burrow, right?”

Harry and Ron both knew that wasn’t really a question, but nodded anyway. Hermione liked her plans to be confirmed even after they were already set in twelve tonnes of stone.

Harry spent much of Saturday doing one of two things - sitting in his dorm room with Draco, just because he knew this was what he would miss most, and roaming the castle aimlessly, as though trying to memorise it’s every brick and staircase (which was of course, impossible, considering the frequency with which they changed).

By the time they got onto the train and Hogsmeade station, Harry was downright miserable. He spent much of the train ride staring out the window, and at one point Draco fell asleep on his shoulder. Harry didn’t miss Hermione sneakily taking a photo of them on her phone, but chose to ignore it. Maybe he’d even ask her for it later. He fell asleep sometime later to the sound of Ron and Hermione arguing about whether Agrippa really deserved to be on a chocolate frog card at all, and woke up as the train was pulling into Kings Cross. Draco was already up, gathering his trunk. Harry’s was already by his side, and he had a feeling Draco had gotten his down first. The foursome made their way onto the platform and Harry found himself properly excited to see the Burrow again, not to mention the Weasleys, Sirius and Remus. Harry spotted the Malfoys half way along the platform, not looking at all like they’d like to be there. Judging by the wide berth the crowd were giving them, no one else wanted them there either.

“I’d better go,” Draco said, and Harry was very aware of how close he was standing.

“Should I- I can come say hi to-”

Draco shook his head, “I’ll see you later, Harry.” He gave Harry a small smile that reminded him of the one they’d shared after their hug the other night. Harry smiled back and resisted the urge to hug him goodbye.

“Yeah, see you.” He meant it as a promise.


	9. Chapter 9

The Burrow had always made Harry feel at home. It was full of people, noise, and love. As soon as they’d walked in the door behind Arthur and Molly, Harry had practically been lifted off his feet by Remus and Sirius greeting him. Next to him, George was gripping Ginny tight and Percy, ever stiff, had an arm around Ron. 

“Bill and Charlie will be here for dinner!” Molly called as she made her way through the house, “get yourselves comfortable before then. Do you need anything? Are you hungry?”

After Harry and Hermione assured Molly that they were just fine, and Ron had his arms loaded up with snacks, they climbed the stairs to Ron’s old room below the attic. Harry was milliseconds away from flopping down on his usual bed when Ron awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Um, Harry… I know you usually sleep in here, and you know I love having you in here and stuff, but we were thinking… Considering Hermione and I are kind of… well, considering we are dating, we thought, maybe, that you could share with Gin? So Hermione could sleep in here?”

“Oh,” Harry hadn’t even considered that Hermione and Ron’s relationship would change things. It had seemed like such a natural progression at the time that he barely gave it a second thought, but he should’ve realised that things would change and that the real world wasn’t sex-segregated like Hogwarts was.

“Of course,” Harry said, more confidently, louder now to make up for the few minutes of silence, “that’s fine.”

“You’re still welcome to hang out in here whenever you want, mate,” Ron seemed calmer now he knew Harry wasn’t going to fight.

Harry smiled at him, “I’m just going to go put my stuff in Ginny’s room then.”

 

Harry’s head had been so full of NEWTs and Draco that he hadn’t even recognised that sleeping in the same room as his ex girlfriend might be a little awkward.

Apparently, Ginny had not had quite the distractions.

“Look, Harry,” she said as soon as he opened the door, “I don’t want this to become awkward between us, so I think we should have a chat about how this is going to work.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, Harry,” she continued, and Harry’s eyebrows rose higher than he thought they could, “but I don’t think there’s any chance of us getting back together,” she continued without giving him any space to breathe, “I just want to get that out of the way first. And I don’t want us to fall into any old patterns like that. I’ve got some of these, I don’t know what they are really, they’re like conversation cards, I guess. Questions for us to answer, to make sure we’re on the same page.”

Harry grinned. He had always liked Ginny and her directness was something he just didn’t get from any of his other friends.

“Gin, I don’t know if we need to worry about that. I’m not interested in getting back together either. NEWTs did quite a good job of getting any thoughts of that out of my head.”

“Oh,” She looked at him, “well, good. But I’d still like to do these, they’re not all about that.”

“Sure. Maybe after dinner though? I’d like to get settled a bit.”

“Of course!” Harry watched as Ginny’s eyes drifted to her also completely unpacked trunk at the foot of the bed. 

They chatted as they transformed the room into something more homely. Ginny updated Harry on all the Quidditch news he’d missed while he’d been studying - both Hogwarts and otherwise - and Harry answered her questions about NEWTs which she would be sitting next year, with the other 7th years who’d had their 6th year interrupted by the war. Ginny was just recounting a prank that had gone wrong (or incredibly right?) in the Gryffindor common room before they’d left for the Burrow - a levitation charm that had combined with a bat bogey hex Harry suspected that Ginny knew more about than she was letting on - when Molly called them down for dinner. They were still laughing about it as they descended the stairs. 

Bill, Fleur and Charlie were already there and Harry and Ginny got three huge hugs each. Ron and Hermione got the same treatment as soon as they reached the dining room, and everyone sat down to dinner in good spirits. 

Arthur sat at the head of the table, and raised his glass in toast. “To Ron, Hermione and Harry for completing their NEWTs!”

A round of cheers went around the table.

“And to Fred.”

Harry was momentarily stunned by the casual mention of Fred’s name, but that quickly dissipated as every Weasley around the table, plus Sirius, Remus and Fleur, yelled “To Fred!” as loudly and raucously as they could. Even Percy, he noticed, dropped his usual serious demeanor to pay respects to their joker angel.

Harry smiled larger than he thought possible as he joined in in toasting to Fred’s memory.

The dinner was nothing short of homely. He spent much of it joking with George and Ginny, and receiving ‘how to adult’ advice from Sirius that got more and more questionable, and more and more accompanied by Remus’ slaps, as the night went on.

 

They retired back upstairs after seconds and thirds of dessert, too many cups of tea, and, for some, very healthy servings of Odgen’s firewhisky. Harry fell onto his bed feeling very warm inside, and couldn’t believe he’d even considered wanting to stay at Hogwarts when this, when family, was waiting for him right here. He was trying to gather the strength to sit up and start getting ready for bed properly when Ginny perched herself at the foot of her bed, pack of ‘conversation cards’ in hand. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” she teased lightly, and Harry grinned up at her. He wished he’d made more of an effort to see her while they were at Hogwarts this year, but he was thankful they could make up for the time now.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he sat up cross legged, and she scooted over so they were facing each other properly.

“Okay,” she began, as business-like as she could while they were both lost in the comfortable glow of the evening they’d just had, “so, I don’t really know if there’s a proper way to do this, like a game or something, but I’m just going to read the cards and we’re going to both answer them, deal.”

Harry nodded. Sounded easy.

“Okay first card, wow this is easy, full name,”

“Harry James Potter”

“Ginevra Molly Weasley… it’s cool how we both have our parents’ names in our names, hey. Usually girls don’t get that. Okay, I’m going to shuffle these because the next one is ‘age’ and that’s so boring…. Okay. Okay - next one is  _ where would you chose to live if you had to leave your country?” _

“Oh, that’s much harder,” Harry grinned, “um, I haven’t really been anywhere, but… I’d love to see America, like, New York you know. Australia sounds amazing too, or France or something, so people here could still visit me.”

Ginny nodded thoughtfully, “I would go with Italy, I think,” Harry waited for her to expand on that but she didn’t, instead reaching for the next card.

“ _ Is it more fun to be a parent or a child? _ ”

“Child, definitely.”

“I agree, and you get your meals cooked for you.  _  What’s the biggest question you have about your future?” _

“Oh. Um, can I say everything?”

“Everything? I thought you wanted to be an Auror?”

“Uhhh, yeah, I don’t know about that. Just feel like maybe I had enough fighting bad guys for one lifetime already.”

Ginny nodded, “so would the question be about your career then?”

Harry shrugged, “yeah I guess, or… well I don’t know. Whether I end up married, have kids, all that kind of stuff too. But I’m less worried about that at the moment I think”

“For me, it’d be whether a career in Quidditch is worth it. You know, unless you’re really good, there’s just no money there. I don’t want to waste years to just have to go back to doing something else.”

“You’re going to be so great, Gin. It’s definitely worth it for you.”

“ _ What’s your most prized possession? _ ” 

“Uhh. Maybe the map. My dad helped make it, you know, and Sirius and Remus.”

“I’d say perhaps my phone, at the moment, I know I haven’t had it very long and it’s not particularly sentimental, but I’ve got photos on there, and I can get in touch with friends across the country so easily and quickly now, it’s just so valuable in that way, yknow”

Harry nodded and realised that he hadn’t even thought to get Draco’s number, let alone Dean’s or Seamus’. Maybe the ever-organised Hermione had them.

The questions continued like that for a while - some reflective, some silly ( _ If you were a tree, what type would you be? _ ) until Harry started slumping down, too sleepy to sit up straight.

“Okay,” Ginny said, noticing this, and Harry thought she also seemed to be droopier than she had been, “let’s just do one more… oh, good, it’s an easy one.  _ What’s your romantic and/or sexual orientation? _ ”

Harry considered feigning sleep. Truthfully, this was a question he’d been avoiding asking himself.

“Harry?” Ginny said. He made eye contact with her and she lept into action. She was by his side, cradling his head against her chest in 30 seconds flat.

“It’s okay,” she said, “whatever your answer is, I’m always going to be your friend, and I’m always going to support you.”

Harry couldn’t stop the tears that fell then, and he was thankful the room was dark save for the low glow of his bedside lamp. 

“I think…” he started. He let out a shuddery breath before continuing, “I think I like both,” it was barely a whisper, but Ginny squeezed him tight.

“That’s great, Harry. I’m so happy for you.”

Harry didn’t understand at all how those responses made sense, but he wrapped his arms around Ginny and her familiar scent helped lull him to sleep.

 

Harry was confused the next morning when he woke with Ginny in his bed, though their arms were no longer around each other. He was petrified for a moment that they’d had some firewhisky-fuelled rekindling of their high school crush before the memories of the night before came back. His chest tightened. He’d actually told Ginny that he liked boys. He hadn’t ever planned on telling anyone that. How was Ron going to react when he found out Harry had told Ginny first? Did he have to tell Ron now? Was he ‘out’?

Luckily, he didn’t have too much time to think on it before Ginny woke up. She groaned at the sunlight streaming through the open curtains, and climbed inelegantly over Harry. She sat down on her own bed and grabbed her phone from her bedside table. She tapped out a couple of sentences, and then looked back up at Harry.

“Don’t worry,” she said, gathering up clothes and towels, “I’m not going to tell anyone what you said last night,” she kissed him on the forehead on her way to the door, “love you,” she said, softly closing the door behind him.

Harry had never been so grateful that Ginny could practically read his mind before.

 

After Arthur and Remus had left for work, and Bill, Fleur and Charlie had gone home, the house was much quieter than it had been the night before. Not that it was quiet now though, of course. Four Weasley children, Harry, Hermione and Sirius caused more than enough commotion that Molly sent them out of the house before lunchtime to play Quidditch. They played 3 on 3: Harry, Ron and Sirius against George, Ginny and Percy. They did away with any actual rules, instead choosing to have every player play every position at once. This lead to, predictably, a lot of confusion and beater bats falling from the air as they were abandoned in the fight for the quaffle, only to be retrieved again minutes later as the bludgers made themselves known. Even amongst the chaos, Harry and Ginny were clearly the best players, followed closely by George and Ron. Sirius made up for what he lacked in technique with enthusiasm, and Percy seemed to dodge most balls.

They played this way for the better part of an hour and landed, hot and sweaty by where Hermione was sitting. She put her phone in her pocket as they descended, and Harry was sure they were going to be treated to a slideshow of ridiculous photos later. 

Exhausted but exhilarated, the seven dumped themselves around the living room. Harry leant his head back against the couch where he was sitting on the floor, and he could feel Ginny’s hair tickle his face where she was leant forward sitting above him. He heard the tinkle of ice cubes before he opened his eyes. A jug of Molly’s homemade lemonade was floating out of the kitchen by itself, surrounded by seven glasses of various shapes and sizes. Harry chose one that was quite short and stout, and smiled appreciatively as it was filled up by the floating jug.

“Thanks, mum!” Ron called, and a chorus of “thanks mum” and “thanks Molly” ran through the house.

Harry heard her chuckle and thought he’d rarely been so content. An image of tea in his dorm room with Draco passed through his mind, but he shook it out. Those moments weren’t coming back. He had resolved to ask Hermione if she’d gotten his number, however.

As predicted, Hermione magically projected the images onto the wall above the fireplace, and they spent a good 45 minutes laughing at the action shots she’d gotten. Most were too blurry to make out anything concrete, but there was a priceless shot of Ron dodging a bludger and almost coming face to face with the ground that made them all scream with laughter and almost choke on the sandwiches that had followed the lemonade.

Their group soon dispersed for the afternoon as its members remembered their other interests. Hermione disappeared somewhere with a book, Percy disappeared into his room, Ron, Ginny, and George set up what seemed like a very fierce game of chess, and Harry was left in the living room with Sirius.

“So,” Sirius smiled, that big, dog-like smile that Harry loved, “you haven’t given me much good gossip this year,” he teased, “who’s snogging who at Hogwarts? What’s going on?”

Harry grinned, and pulled himself up onto the couch that was now empty, “uh, honestly, I feel like I kind of missed all that stuff. NEWTs were stressful, you know,” he knew his casual tone was betraying just how difficult he’d found the time period.

Sirius’ eyes narrowed, “more stressful than all the saving the world stuff you did last year?”

“I mean, it’s different, isn’t it? Saving the world, I had Ron and Hermione and everyone with me, and like, a lot of it was just luck, you couldn’t really prepare,” he pulled his legs up to his chest, “but this was like, it was just me, you know? And if I failed, it was because of me, because I didn’t prepare, I couldn’t blame it on anyone else, or on dumb luck or anything. So yeah, I don’t know. Maybe not more stressful, but more… anxiety-inducing,” he tried his hand at a humourless laugh and found it very unbecoming.

“You know,” Sirius said, “Remus dealt with a lot of that stuff, what with being a social outcast and all. Maybe you should talk to him,”

“Maybe,” Harry thought he would rather never bring this up again, “thanks.”

“Anyway,” Sirius said, “surely there’s some news, you didn’t just hang out with Ron and Hermione all year, did you?”

“Mostly,” Harry admitted, “but with others as well!”

“Mm?” Sirius sounded disbelieving, but he was smiling.

“Dean and Seamus, Mandy! And Neville and sometimes Lavendar, and-” he paused, not really knowing how Sirius would react to his closest new friend, “Draco.”

Sirius’ eyebrows shot straight to his hairline, “Draco?”

“Malfoy. He was my roommate, something about interhouse unity or some such,” he tried that humourless laugh again. Nope, still no good. “He turned out to be okay. We mostly just studied together. He had some good study music.”

“Okay,” Sirius said in a tone that very much implied he was holding back expressing his judgement, probably until Remus was home, “what music was it? Maybe we have some of it here if you liked it.”

Harry, grateful for the diversion, gladly said “a band, he said they were called One Direction.”

Nothing could have prepared Harry for the bark of laughter that Sirius let out just then. Sirius rolled off his armchair onto the floor, howling as though that was the funniest thing Harry had ever said. He’d never reminded Harry of his animagus form more.

“Something funny?” He said, when Sirius had quieted to a mere giggle.

“You don’t know who One Direction are, do you?”

“No?”

“They’re this band, their music’s not that bad, I’ll give you that, but they’re a boy band. Like, all tight pants and sex appeal. Their fans are almost exclusively girls and gay guys.”

“Oh,” Harry felt his face flame and he prayed it wasn’t too obvious.

“Just surprised me,” Sirius said between laughs, “Malfoy, into One Direction,” he fell back onto the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks and Harry took that as his cue to leave in search of tea.

 

That night, Ginny and Harry turned out the lights, and got into their own beds with a hug.

“You don’t know who One Direction are, do you, Gin?”

“Hmm? No? Who are they?”

“Oh just a band.”

“Okay.”

They went to sleep without another word.


	10. Chapter 10

 

As their never-ending holidays progressed, Harry started to feel the pressure. Not just the pressure to find a career and a spouse and figure out what he was doing with his life, but the pressure to come out to Ron and Hermione. Namely, he and Ginny had a late night conversation in which he admitted he was thinking about telling them, and since then, Ginny began nudging him anytime there was a remotely appropriate opening in the conversation. One night, as they were getting ready for bed, he decided this needed addressing.

“Ginny, I want to do it properly,”

“Hm?”

“Telling Ron and Hermione, I want to do it properly. Like, not just drop it in to the conversation at random, you know?”

Ginny looked at him for a moment. “Okay,” she said slowly, “that’s up to you. But you know, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. It might be easier if there’s not that much attention drawn to it.”

“I know, but,” Harry rubbed his eyes, “it feels like a big deal to me, and I want them to understand that it’s a big deal to me. It doesn’t have to be a big deal to them, and I hope it’s not, really, but it’s part of me, you know, and that’s important.”

Ginny surveyed him carefully, “Okay, that makes sense.” She finished folding the last of her laundry and put it carefully into the second drawer down, “so, when are you going to do it?”

Harry groaned, “I don’t know,”

“Do it tomorrow.”

“What?!”

“I’m going to schedule a nice long phone call with a boy so I’ll just have to kick you out of our room after dinner. Guess you’ll have nowhere to go but Ron’s room.”

Harry couldn’t decide whether he hated or loved Ginny at that moment. He supposed it was a bit of both.

 

True to the plan, the next night after dinner as everyone was getting ready to retire to their rooms, Ginny pulled Harry aside (but not so far aside that everyone in the room couldn’t hear what she was saying).

“Harry, I’m really sorry, but I’ve got Chester -the one I told you about?- calling me tonight, is it okay if I have a bit of privacy in our room? Just for an hour or so?”

“Oh, uh yeah of course, Gin.”

“I’m sure you could go hang out with Ron, anyway,”

“Yeah, I guess, I don’t want to intrude on him and Hermione though,”

As if right on cue, Hermione stalked up and interrupted them.

“Nonsense, Harry! It’s been a while since we’ve had a good chat, Ron and I would love to hang out.”

Harry sensed an interrogation coming, but he returned Ginny’s smile as she left for her phone call with ‘Chester’.

Ron, on the other hand, didn’t look excited at all about Harry spending the evening with them. Instead, his eyes followed Ginny up the rickety staircase.

“Who the hell is Chester?” He rounded on Harry, “Why the hell do you know who Chester is? I’m her brother!”

“Maybe because I share a room with her?” Harry suggested weakly, trying very hard not to laugh at Ron’s indignation over a non-existent boy named Chester. 

Ron scowled. It was only until they were halfway up the stairs and Hermione whispered something in his ear that his demeanor changed. 

The second they got into Ron’s room - which Harry was surprised to see now had a number of pink and blue trinkets and posters around the place - Hermione sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to her, indicating that Harry should join her. He knew better than to fight when Hermione had an interrogation planned.

“So, Harry,” Hermione smiled a little too wide, “How’s it been going living with Ginny?”

“Oh,” Harry said, this seemed mild compared to the wild suggestions his brain had been providing, “it’s great actually, Gin and I have always gotten on well.”

“Oh I know,” Hermione said, “so is there anything…  _ happening _ between you two?”

Harry felt like a cartoon character with the way his jaw dropped at that. “Happening? Between? No, Hermione, that ship is long sailed. We’re just friends, honest.”

Hermione looked more than a slight bit disappointed.

“There is, uh,” Harry’s hand found the back of his neck as he searched for words that wouldn’t make this sound ominous, “something I do want to talk to you two about, though.”

“Oh?”

Harry couldn’t quite figure out how to make the words come out. He looked at Ron, though he wasn’t sure why. Ron had his eyes narrowed like Harry was about to tell him Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers again. He looked back at Hermione, who at least was smiling encouragingly.

“I have kind of… realised something? About myself?” Harry wasn’t sure why he was saying this like a question, except for some distant hope of being rescued from the situation somehow. Hermione’s lips were pursed in a smile, and she looked like she knew exactly what was coming. 

“I don’t only like girls,” he said, cringing at how childlike he sounded, “I like boys, too.”

“Oh Harry, congratulations,” Hermione pulled him into a tight hug and once again, Harry wasn’t sure what he was being congratulated on.

After pulling away from Hermione, he looked up at Ron who had yet to say anything.

“Uh,” Ron said eloquently, side eyeing Hermione for the answers, “thanks for telling us, mate.”

For Harry, that was as good as any “I love you” from anyone else. Before he could help himself, he dragged Ron into a hug as well.

Relief flooding his veins, he felt almost giddy.

Practically laughing, he addressed Ron, “Oh and, I should probably tell you, there’s no such boy as Chester, Gin just wanted us to have some time.”

He smiled wide, and then realised he’d just admitted that Ginny knew first. Cringing slightly inside he watched as Ron made the realisation seconds after him.

“You told… I mean, of course you did, you’re friends, you live with her…”

“I didn’t mean to,” Harry hastily interjected, “it was part of a game, and she asked and I just… you know I’m a shit liar. Besides, we’re friends, I trust her, I thought why not?”

Ron nodded, still looking slightly put out but obviously trying hard to look like he wasn’t.

“Oh Harry,” Hermione said, choosing to ignore that interaction all together, “I’m so happy for you, you must feel so much better.”

Harry looked at her in surprise, he hadn’t really thought about the aftermath of telling them, just that he was praying it wasn’t being kicked to the curb. “I do, actually, it’s nice, not having secrets, you know?”

Hermione grinned at that, and Harry had the feeling she was about to try and expose a secret he didn’t even know he had.

“In that case, any boys you want to tell us about? Crushes? Flings? Late night canoodles?” she teased.

Harry laughed out loud at the word ‘canoodles’. How could he have been scared of telling her?

“But no details!” Ron practically yelled, as though already scarred by the thought.

“Don’t worry, Ron, there haven’t been any flings or canoodles, late night or otherwise. I’m really only just figuring this out honestly.”

“But crushes?” Hermione pushed.

“I don’t know,” Harry said, but his mind was filled with blonde hair, striking grey eyes and the soft melody of  _ I Want To Write You A Song _ .

“You can say, you know,” Hermione pressed, “being able to share a bed with Dean wasn’t the only reason Seamus practically moved out of your dorm.”

Hermione was seconds away from saying Draco’s name but Harry’s attention was caught by something else.

“Wait, what do you mean Seamus was sharing a bed with Dean?”

“Where do you think he went? I’d rather be in bed with my boyfriend than stuck with you and Malfoy fighting like you were at the beginning of the year.” Ron snorted.

Harry felt like he’d been hit with a freight train.

“Boyfriend?”

Hermione looked at him like he’d gone crazy.

“You did realise Seamus and Dean have been together for a year now, didn’t you? I know you’re oblivious but Harry!”

“Uh,” he looked around for Ron to save him, but Ron just shrugged.

“Even I’d worked that one out, mate.”

“I was just focused on other things…” Harry mumbled.

“Nevermind!” Hermione sprang to her feet, “Let’s get Ginny and have a hot chocolate or something. To celebrate!”

She practically bounced out of the bedroom and Harry and Ron followed.

 

As he lay in bed later that evening, he couldn’t help thinking about Dean and Seamus. Was it really that easy? Could you really just live a life like that, and no one minds? He dreamt of dark hands meeting light, under tables, and in crowded halls, proud. 

He woke up with a smile on his face.


	11. Chapter 11

Order of the Phoenix meetings were still held regularly after the war, but Harry and his friends had opted to keep out of them. At the moment, it all seemed to be smaller crimes and organisations, none that truly threatened to become the next Dark Lord. Harry thought he’d much rather let others worry about that for the moment. 

One evening, after they’d been at the Burrow at least two months already, however, Harry was called downstairs during an Order meeting. He got that very real sense of foreboding as he followed Molly down from his room where he’d been watching an intense game of Chess between Ginny and George, towards where adult voices ( _ you’re an adult too, _ his inner voice reminded him) seemed to be talking in serious tones.

They all stopped when he entered the small dining room. Thankfully, they were all looking at him with smiles on their faces. 

Minerva McGonagall stood first, and swept around the table to give Harry a tight hug. Harry had thought being embraced by his recently former Headmistress would be strange, but her embrace was tight, and comforting. Sirius, Remus, Bill, Charlie, Arthur and Percy also sat around the table, along with Tonks, Fleur and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Harry sat down at the chair that was waiting for him, and was instantly handed a folder full of information.

“Okay,” Kingsley said, always a man of business, “you don’t need to worry about most of what’s in that folder, but I’ve got to get you up to speed if you’re going to be able to help at all.”

Harry nodded.

“We’ve been watching the Ministry for a while now,” he began. Harry accepted the tea offered to him. “Mostly good people in there now, thank goodness, but they’re scared. Terrified they’re going to make the same mistakes as the Fudge government and let themselves bury their heads in the sand and, ultimately, get infiltrated. Good that they’re taking initiative, but the way they’re doing it is where we have a problem.”

“They’re going after ex-Death Eaters,” Charlie continued, as Kingsley paused to nibble a scone. “And I don’t mean ones that got away, or got off lightly, I mean all of them. Ones that were proven to have been under imperius, ones that got a trial and were released, anyone with the Mark. Trying to make themselves look good, I guess, like they’re doing something.”

“But, what do you mean ‘going after’ them? What are they doing, exactly?”

“Locking them up, pretty much. Azkaban isn’t as bad as it used to be, but it’s still not a nice place to be sent.” 

Sirius let out a hollow laugh and Harry watched as Remus snaked a hand under the table beside him. Images still in his head of Dean and Seamus, of dreams and queers, was Harry imagining this or-?

“But, mostly, you don’t need to worry, Harry.” Kingsley said, his booming voice effectively shocking Harry out of his wondering. “We’ve got most of the families who don’t deserve to be locked up and we’ve located them safely with friends, or family members. There’s just one more we can’t seem to make arrangements for, and that’s where you come in.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up, “you think I can make arrangements for a Death Eater family?”

“For a family of people who were affected by the war and are still feeling the effects,” McGonagall said, and Harry felt appropriately scolded.

“The Malfoys,” Kingsley said, and it took Harry a minute to catch up with that thought.

“The Malfoys,” Harry repeated.

“I’m not sure if you followed their state of affairs much after the war, Harry?”

Harry shook his head.

“They lost the lot, pretty much. Lucius and Narcissa have spent the last year living in Ministry housing and doing community service. The pureblood ties have all but fallen now that half the families have members in Azkaban and half are living in squalor, so they have claimed they have nowhere to go, no one to ask. Sirius mentioned that you’d been sharing a dorm with Draco while finishing your NEWTs, and we thought it prudent to ask whether he’d mentioned anyone suitable. Is there anyone he trusts who has a house they could use?”

_ The only person Draco trusts is me _ , Harry thought, oddly protectively. But then again,  _ the only person Draco trusts is me. _

“I…” Harry started, keenly aware that all eyes were on him, “he doesn’t have anyone that he mentioned. But…” It was now or never. “I have that place in Westshire. The one I inherited. Ron and Hermione and I were going to move out there when we get it warded and cleaned out properly but I mean, it’s there if they need it as much as you say.”

“Oh Harry,” Molly said, “you shouldn’t have to give up your home, we don’t know how long they’re going to have to stay. They have nothing, they might not be able to move for years.”

Harry thought about it for a second. Living with Lucius and Narcissa didn’t sound great, but Harry couldn’t just let them and Draco be thrown in Azkaban for things they may or may not have done over a year ago. 

“I understand,” he said firmly, “and I’d like to offer them to live with me, if the Order is agreeable.”

“Very well,” Remus said, smiling, “the Order will have to take a look at the house, like we were planning on doing anyway, and make sure the wards are set up properly. And you’ll have to discuss your plans for moving in, if you do intend to live there with the Malfoys.”

Harry nodded.

“We’ll keep you updated, Harry. And you can back out at any time, with no hard feelings.”

Harry nodded again, “If that’s all…”

A general murmuring went around the table as phones and watches were checked to see that it was already almost 10.

“Yes, of course! Goodnight, Harry! Thankyou for the productive meeting, Order!”

Order members disappeared one by one, through the floo or into thin air. Harry was left at the table with Remus and Sirius, Arthur and Molly having gone into the kitchen.

“Harry,” Sirius started, “Remus and I were thinking, considering Grimmauld Place is a hellhole - don’t hit me, Remus, it is! - that we would like to, if you’d like, of course, move in with you too. But, this is starting to feel like a bit of a full house already.”

“Really?” Harry couldn’t help but beam, “That would be awesome!”

“And Teddy would stay sometimes - if that’s okay, of course. I know it’s a big place, but he has a surprising amount of energy for one so small.”

Teddy - short for Theodore - was the result of a short-lived relationship between Remus and Tonks during the war. They can both now claim it was out of desperation and laugh at it, but Harry knows they wouldn’t give up Teddy for the world.

“I would love to see Teddy more often!” Harry was practically bouncing in his chair now, “and it’d be so nice having you guys around! The more the merrier, right?”

Sirius and Remus grinned at each other, and for the second time that night, Harry wondered if they were more than just close friends.

They exchanged goodnight hugs and Harry went to bed feeling overjoyed that he might soon have all the people important to him - Draco not excepted - in such close proximity.

 

The next few weeks passed in a blur of tea, Quidditch and planning. Harry felt better now the he had a plan, even if it wasn’t career-related. He wasn’t just living aimlessly at the Burrow anymore. His house, which was left to him by an old man with no family who died in the war, was barely going to be big enough for everyone that planned to live there. It was also full of the old man’s belongings, which were also now Harry’s. Harry knew there was going to be a lot of cleaning and renovating to be done, but until then, people would have to share rooms. Luckily, everyone seemed amenable to that. Harry could only hope the Malfoys would be alright. In his more bitter moments, he supposed they’d better be, considering he was essentially saving their lives. 

They were only able to get into the house two days before Harry had to go meet the Malfoys. With the little time they had, they moved as much stuff as they could out of some of the bedrooms and the living room, into the other bedrooms they wouldn’t be using. They put mattresses on the floor, and tried to make the rooms look as nice as possible. It was a feat none of them thought they’d be able to achieve, and that was lucky because by the end of it, it just looked like some mattresses on the floor of an empty room.

Harry was glad he’d have something to do for the next few months (years?), though. He liked to have something to focus on, and preferred working with his hands. Maybe it’d quell the lingering fear that he still didn’t know what to do with his life.

The night before the Malfoys were arriving, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Remus and Sirius all were having a dinner of pizza on the floor of the living room when George flooed in unannounced.

Harry’s immediate response was fear, “what’s going on? Is everything alright?”

George made quick work of reassuring everyone that everything was okay before telling them why he was really there.

“Look Harry, I was wondering, just while you’re doing the place up,” he indicated vaguely at, well, everything, “I was wondering if I could stay here with you all. I just, I think it’d be good to have something to do with my hands, you know, keep myself busy?”

“Of course,” Hermione jumped in, perhaps afraid that Harry was doing to ask what George needed distracting from. Harry took offense that Hermione would think that (even in his own head).

“Yeah, of course, mate,” Harry echoed, “you’re always welcome here.”

George smiled and accepted a slice of pizza from Sirius as he sat down.

The night passed without incident and Harry, although nervous about what he had to do the next day, slept peacefully in the room he was sharing with George.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry hesitated. His unfamiliar white-blonde hair fell into his eyes and his arms felt slightly too long. He wasn’t sure how Narcissa and Lucius would react to him bursting into their home in the body of their son, but if he didn’t do this now, he’d never find out. He approached the gated community. There was a guard standing to the side, who watched him approach. Harry had the horrible familiar feeling of someone judging him harshly when he  _ hadn’t done anything wrong, goddamnit,  _ that was oh-so-familiar back at Privet Drive. He fumbled slightly with the key card and slid it through the reader. He stood, acutely aware of how tense he was, as he waited for the gates to slowly slide open. As soon as he was able, he walked through the gates and towards the building. The building was an odd, almost oval shape. At the doorway, he could see that he had two options - left or right. Harry had no idea how many units there were, and no idea which way would lead him there most quickly. He saw a door labelled ‘1’, and headed down the right-hand hallway. 33 couldn’t be too far away, could it? He started to follow, feeling hopeful as the numbers climbed. The corridor swerved to the left, and Harry slowed almost to a stop as he rounded the corner up ahead, and saw another 90 degree turn to the left. This would lead him straight out again. This would lead him right to where the guard could see from his position out the front. Harry took a deep breath, heart hammering in his chest, as he tried to look like he belonged here. He rounded the last corner and, as he expected, could see the guard watching him. He carefully avoided eye contact and located number 33 on the left about half way down. He let himself in without knocking and entered the room.

In front of him was the smallest living space Harry could imagine. Most of the floor was taken up with a big bed which was clearly where all three Malfoys slept, behind which was a kitchen counter stretching the length of the room. A quarter of the room to his right was taken up with what was clearly a tiny bathroom. A loft overhead was unusable because of the objects the Malfoys had clearly decided were important enough to bring with them.

Right in front of him, staring up at him were Lucius and Narcissa. Narcissa was using a laptop, and Harry took a moment to appreciate that vision he never thought he would see. 

“Draco,” Narcissa said lightly, “are you okay?”

“Um,” said Harry, not quite sure how to start now that he was here, “I’m not Draco,” the effect was instantaneous. Both Malfoys stood, on the defensive, but neither had anything to grab with which to defend themselves.

“I’m Harry Potter,” Harry said quickly, “Draco’s fine, he should be home in a little. I just needed to talk to you, and I didn’t know any other way to get in contact.”

The Malfoys relaxed a little, but their eyes were still narrowed.

“What did I ask you in the forest the night the Dark Lord died?” Narcissa asked, as though she’d practiced this before.

“You asked whether Draco was alive. I said he was.”

Narcissa nodded, “very well. Would you like some tea, Potter? Are you going to be here a while?”

Harry nodded stiffly, “yes, please, Mrs Malfoy. I’d like to stay until Draco returns home, if that’s okay, and apologise. We had to take his keycard by force, and I daresay it left him confused.”

“Of course”

Narcissa moved the metre into the kitchen and began busying herself with the electric kettle. Harry let himself look at Lucius. Lucius looked like a shell of his former self. He no longer seemed aggressive, no longer had power radiating from him. He looked like an ordinary man. In fact, taking in his casual clothes and cramped living space, he quite looked like a man down on his luck. Harry sat on the edge of the bed as he waited for the tea. He saw Narcissa and Lucius share an awkward look and chose not to address it. He couldn’t imagine how they feel having a visitor here instead of the Manor.

Narcissa brought the tea after a moment, and settled herself back down next to her husband, “What is it, Harry?”

Harry was startled for a moment at the use of his first name, but decided not to call attention to it. “It’s no longer safe for you here,” he began, “I’m sure you have heard whispers about the changing government…” he waited for their nods, “At the moment, we have little indication about their plans for these units, but we have been trying to ensure that everyone here has a safe place to stay, should they have to move.” Harry hesitated, “Most others have indicated that they have family or friends that would be able to make them comfortable, and with the help from the Order, we’ll be able to ensure that they’re adequately protected. However, we did not have anyone, er, suitable for your family on record,” Harry stopped, wondering if they would chime in with a long lost family member or friend they hadn’t known about. When no one said anything, he continued, “we have a solution that I hope you can be agreeable to, even if it may not be perfect. I would like to invite you all to stay at my house. It’s large enough, though a number of family members and friends will also be moving in, so you may have to share rooms. Everyone has been briefed, however, and we shouldn’t have any problems beyond the lack of space,” He cringed as he heard himself talk about lack of space in what was possibly the tiniest living space he’d been in since his cupboard days.

Harry watched as Narcissa looked to her husband, eyes hopeful. He met them and then turned back to Harry, “very well. That is a… generous offer, Potter. My family thanks you.”

Harry smiled a real, genuine smile. It had been worth it coming here, after all.

“Great!” He said, pulling a piece of paper from his pants pockets, “here is the address, and the date we’re all going to be moving there. I think it’d be best if you’d meet us there on that day. My phone number is there too, I don’t know if you…” 

“Draco has a mobile telephone,” Lucius said, and Harry really should’ve remembered that.

“Great,” Harry breathed, “so I’ll let him know what time and where to meet on that day, so we can show you the house. It’s not very well signposted unfortunately,”

Harry felt the familiar sick feeling as the polyjuice potion wore off and he returned to his own body. He grimaced and watched the Malfoys let out a tiny breath of relief as it was revealed that he was actually who he said he was.

Harry relaxed and began sipping his tea, and allowed for small talk to pass between the three of them in relative comfort. Harry was almost finished his tea when there was a knock on the door. Harry startled slightly, but Narcissa opened the door to reveal a slightly frazzled looking Draco. Draco entered and stared at Harry like he didn’t know how to react.

“Potter.”

“Malfoy.”

Harry mentally shook himself, not willing to return to the animosity of their early Hogwarts days if they were going to be living together.

“Er, Draco. Hi,” he pulled the key card from his pockets and handed it back to its rightful owner, “I’m sorry about this afternoon, I just needed to get in here without any suspicion.”   
Draco’s face contorted as he worked out what had happened. “Polyjuice?”   
Harry nodded.

Draco looked like he was having an internal battle about how to react to Harry’s presence in his altogether embarrassing home, so Harry allowed himself the moment to finish his tea and stand up.

“Narcissa, Lucius,” he said, addressing them by their first names for the first time, “thankyou for your hospitality. Draco, your parents have my phone number, please text me so that I have yours. I’ll be seeing you all in a few days.”

He waited a moment to see if anyone was going to say anything, but Narcissa just nodded politely, and Harry opened the door to the corridor. He peeked to the left and saw a different guard than was there an hour ago, which explained how Draco entering wasn’t suspicious. He quickly headed back the way he’d come, so that it’d appear he’d been visiting a unit on the other side of building. As he left, he shared a cursory nod with the guard, oddly aware that he was still wearing a set of Draco Malfoy’s clothes.


	13. Chapter 13

On the agreed day, Harry met the Malfoys at the gate. His house was in a sort of secure neighbourhood, and all the houses looked the same. He knew that giving them instructions into this maze of suburbia wouldn’t be polite.

As they walked down the drive, Harry resisted the urge to hug Draco, to ask how he’s been, to hold his hand. He instead busied himself with small talk, put off by the fact that Draco was barely looking at him. He prayed that this was due to Draco also feeling an inescapable urge to be close that he was trying to deny, but even Harry thought maybe he was deluding himself this time.

He told the Malfoys about who would be staying with them and apologised in advance for the lack of space (He cringed when Lucius politely replied, “I assure you, that won’t be an issue”.) and the work that needed to be done for the house to be homely. Narcissa chatted politely, and Harry knew she was an expert at small talk. She easily flowed the conversation from one topic to the next, skillfully avoiding any mention of any awkward or serious topic, and Harry was infinitely grateful. He didn’t think a silent march down the drive would have done much for his nerves.

As they reached the house, Harry noticed the entire gang out the front - clearly, waiting for Harry to come back with their guests. Remus and Sirius stood with their arms around each other, Ron, Hermione and George stood beside them, the boys giggling while Hermione scowled. 

When they got within handshake distance, though, everyone was nothing short of polite and welcoming. Hermione showed Lucius and Narcissa to their room, and the others announced that they would be providing tea and biscuits in the kitchen. That left Harry with Draco and the sudden realisation that he’d given George Draco’s bed.

He lead Draco into his and George’s room anyway, and announced to Draco that he would take the floor between the beds, so that Draco and George could sleep comfortably.

“Don’t be stupid, Potter,” Malfoy snapped, and Harry was scared they’d reverted back to enemy status somehow, “your bed is a double, at least. You know I sleep perfectly, there’s no reason for us not to share. It’s your house - you should have a bed. And there is no way I’m sleeping on the floor.”

Draco left no room for argument, and Harry nodded dumbly before seeing a slight smile on the blond boy’s face. 

Just as Harry was about to come out with “I miss you,” or something equally sappy, George burst into the room.

“Tea’s up! Come on!”

Harry and Draco glanced at each other as they made their way to the kitchen and Harry got the feeling everything would be okay. 

Over the afternoon and evening, Harry longed to get Draco alone. He wanted to know how he’d been, wanted to find out his favourite song at the moment, wanted little things between them that no one else knew. He wanted to hug him again, and let him know that he was safe and that everything would be okay. He didn’t realise how much he’d been craving the relationship they’d had at Hogwarts, but now that Draco was there and yet slightly out of reach, Harry couldn’t wait to get him alone.

Typically, however, Lucius and Narcissa were hesitant to let Draco out of their sight for more than the time it took him to go to the bathroom. Harry couldn’t blame them, knew how devastating the war had been for them, and how much worse it could have gotten, but he hated not being able to casually pull Draco aside. Not that he thought he had the capacity to do anything like that casually, but that’s neither here nor there.

George also seemed unusually clingy. Harry supposed that with Ron and Hermione playing happy couples, Harry was the only available friend of his own age in the house. He didn’t really mind, of course, but he was struck by how quiet Draco was and how much he wanted to say to him.

Harry announced that he was heading to bed quite early that night, and, to his great relief, Draco quickly agreed and followed him after saying goodnight to his parents. At last, they stood alone in their room. This was what Harry had waited for, and now the moment was here, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“Draco…”

“Harry,”

Their eyes met and Harry felt instant relief flood his bones. His Draco was still there, using his first name, speaking in that soft voice. Before anything else was said, however, George burst in.

“Hi boys!”

He was way too cheerful for someone who just interrupted… something.

“Do you want to play exploding snap before bed?”

“Uh, sorry George, I am actually really tired, I was going to go straight to sleep.”

“Oh, that’s okay, Harry. And you’ve had a big day too, Draco. Maybe in the morning.”

They nodded and went about their routine getting ready for bed. Harry hoped that maybe he and Draco could talk once George went to sleep, but Draco’s eyes were shut and his breathing steady almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Harry relaxed next to him, and resisted the urge to put his arms around him. Instead, he compromised by letting his arm lay resting against Draco’s. He slept better than he had in months.

 

When Harry woke, he found himself alone in bed. George was snoring lightly across the room, and Draco was nowhere to be seen. He found himself gripped with the sudden panic that he’d managed to embarrass himself in his sleep. Did he snuggle Draco during the night? Leave him so uncomfortable he’d rather not share a bed ever again? Did he talk in his sleep? Harry tried desperately to think of what he’d dreamed of. Flashes of the war, definitely. Maybe that old dream of dark hands holding light…

Before he could ponder too hard what exactly he’d done wrong, Draco re-entered the room with a towel around his waist, damp hair hanging in front of his eyes. Harry liked him like this, casual and unguarded.

“I must hand it do you, Potter,” Draco said, but his smile betrayed his cool tone, “you’re not as annoying to sleep with as I thought you would be.”

Draco was teasing him and Harry felt himself sag with relief. 

“Right back at ya, Malfoy.” Harry let himself fall back against the pile of pillows and closed his eyes to give Draco some privacy to change. When he felt a weight on the end of the bed, Harry opened his eyes again. Draco was wearing black skinny jeans and a black and white blocked t-shirt that only served to accentuate how thin he was. He looked good, and Harry felt somewhat inferior in his presence.

Now that Harry was more awake, he tried what he’d wanted to do last night - talk to Draco.

“So, how are you?” his voice was soft, and he knew that Draco understood what he was asking.

“It’s been tough,” Draco practically whispered, his eyes rising to meet Harry’s, “I only hope that my NEWT results are enough to get me into something that’ll stop everyone looking at me like I’m still a goddamn Death Eater,” his words were bitter, and his eyes were starting to glisten.

Harry felt terrible, he’d been having such a calm, good time at the Burrow, he could barely imagine what it was like to be Draco.

He reached his arm out, and touched Draco’s hand lightly. Draco didn’t move, but looked down at the point of contact. 

“I’m glad you’re here, things will get better now.”

Draco grimaced, and Harry could tell he didn’t believe him. Before he had the chance to offer anymore reassurance, though, George awoke with a groan and a cough. He stumbled around the room, finding his clothes and beginning to dress in a manner that Harry privately thought would’ve been befitting of a bull in a china shop. 

Harry and Draco shared a look before heading to the kitchen rather than watching George struggle with his shirt any more. 

When they got there, they found Ron, Hermione and Remus already gathered around the counter drinking tea. Harry prepared himself and Draco a cup, glad he remembered how the other boy took it. 

They sat in silence and listened to Hermione and Remus outline a plan for tackling the clean-up that would begin today. Harry privately thought he’d much rather just sit and listen to music with Draco. He’d been looking forward to having something to do with his hands, but now Draco was here, he felt much less antsy. Maybe he could convince everyone that an afternoon nap was necessary.

The others joined them, and Sirius and Narcissa worked together surprisingly well to make a simple breakfast of toast and eggs. Harry got the feeling that they’d communicated more than they’d let on, because there was no way the Sirius Harry had known just months ago would be speaking this nicely to any of his family.

 

The day passed relatively uneventfully. It turned out the man who had owned this house had lived an extremely boring life. Thankfully, there were no doxies or boggarts to be found (so far), just a lot of old books and newspapers which Hermione disappeared amongst before determining, sadly, that most of them were worthless and too damaged to keep. Harry found himself working with Sirius for most of the morning, throwing almost everything in the living space into a huge skip bin that Harry was sure must’ve been bigger on the inside for it to still not be full by lunch time. Remus made a platter of sandwiches around midday and the nine of them spent lunch laughing at an old teapot Ron had found that seemed to have naked people painted on it, who ran and hid in shame whenever anyone looked at them. 

In the afternoon, Harry found himself with Draco and Ron, unpacking and discarding clothes and personal effects in the master bedroom where Sirius and Remus had been sleeping. About half an hour into working in awkward silence, for Ron had seemed to forgotten how much he’d warmed up to Draco during school, Harry asked Draco to put some music on.

Draco seemed unsure, but Harry found an old set of speakers and an aux cord and, soon, familiar tunes were playing softly. The afternoon passed more quickly after that, and the three of them even found themselves having fun. Ron put on a pair of old rainbow suspenders he found and began doing a dance around the room that Harry thought was ridiculous. He ended the dance with an inelegant leap which landed him in a pile of linen. As dust rose from around Ron, Draco’s face went red with the effort of holding his laughter in, before it became too much. Harry thought it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, and the rest of the afternoon was spent in very high spirits. 

After dinner, the group surveyed the progress they had made. Because there was no sentimental value to any of the belongings, it was a quick job of tossing mostly everything, rather than wasting time making decisions. As such, the house was already looking better. The living room was now empty, though it was agreed that the ugly orange carpet and matching curtains would have to go. Everyone agreed that the floral wallpaper - which Harry personally thought only looked okay compared to its surroundings - would also have to be stripped. Harry felt almost excited looking around the house. He couldn’t wait to see what kind of future he could build there with his makeshift family.

They had dessert sprawled on the floor of the living room and Harry was pleased to learn that Narcissa was not only sweet, and reasonable but quite quick witted. The beginning of her anecdote about a hag she’d met in Diagon Alley had put many of their company on edge, for fear that someone’s very being would be the butt of the joke, but by the end, everyone was rolling on the floor with laughter - literally, when it came to George.

Lucius was remaining quiet, for which Harry was grateful. He couldn’t bring himself to hate the man anymore, but he knew that he still had quite a few worldviews he needed to reflect on and correct before Harry could feel anything close to warm towards him. However, the look on his face as he watched Narcissa talk gave Harry hope that he wasn’t all bad. 

They went to bed quite early, exhausted from the day’s hard labour. Draco fell asleep instantly again, but Harry lay awake for a long time, listening to Draco’s calm breaths and George’s coughing.


	14. Chapter 14

The next few days continued in much the same way. The living room and kitchen were the first to be stripped bare of any of the old man’s belongings. Harry even started to flip through catalogues from various shops in Diagon Alley for the basics to outfit his new home. Having never lived anywhere besides the Dursleys, Hogwarts, Grimmauld Place or the Burrow, Harry had never had to buy things like cutlery and furniture and, to be honest, was a little out of his league. Thankfully, his friends pitched in and offered suggestions and soon he had so many packages ordered that he couldn’t even remember what he’d bought. He prayed he hadn’t ended up with the pink floral plates that had reminded him horridly of Umbridge - George had found them a little too hilarious.

The main bedroom had been the next to be emptied, and Harry let Remus and Sirius stay in there, though every knew that, by rights, that would be Harry’s room once the place was done. One of the bedrooms that had been too full to put a mattress in had progressed enough after the third day that George had gladly accepted the suggestion that he move his mattress in there, rather than stay with Harry and Draco in the room that was definitely too small for the three of them.

After dinner on that third night, Sirius suggested a group trip to Diagon Alley. Nearly everyone was very excited to get out of the house, and to spend time somewhere that wouldn’t be covered in dust. 

Harry, however, wasn’t a fan of crowds since the war - too many people seemed to want a picture with their ‘saviour’ or to blame him for their families being mistreated by the Ministry, no matter how many times he reiterated that he had no influence over the Ministry anymore. 

Harry had suspected that the Malfoys wouldn’t be too keen to go out either, but Narcissa and Lucius seemed to agree that being seen with the Weasleys could only bolster their image in the community, and were more than happy to join the troupe. The date was set for Saturday, two days from that night.

That evening, Harry expected Draco to fall asleep instantly, as he had every other night so far. However, when he got back from brushing his teeth, he found Draco in his pyjamas perched on the edge of the bed they were still sharing.

“Hey,” Harry smiled at him, “thought you might’ve already fallen asleep,”

Draco smiled back, “nah, I wanted to wait and say a proper goodnight for once.”

Harry didn’t bother to restrain himself this time, and slotted himself between Draco’s legs, wrapping his arms around him. Draco instantly reached his arms around Harry’s back and they stayed like that for what felt like forever.

When they pulled apart, Harry couldn’t remember anything he had wanted to say to Draco, couldn’t remember any questions he’d had that he’d been saving for when they were alone. They had their own room now, and apparently infinite time for talking. Instead, Harry just crawled into bed and they lay next to each other. The second Draco’s head hit the pillow though, Harry could see his eyes start to droop. He smiled and brushed blonde hair away from his friend’s eyes before allowing himself to drift off as well.

 

The next day, Remus pulled Harry aside as everyone was having a break after lunch.

“Harry, I’d like to ask a favour,” Remus said, “Don’t feel pressured to say yes, of course, I know it’s quite a big ask, but I was wondering if you could watch Teddy on Saturday when we all go to Diagon Alley? I know you didn’t want to come with us, and I don’t want to disrupt your you time.”

Harry grinned broadly at him, “not at all! I love Teddy! I’d love to watch him,”

Remus clapped him on the shoulder, “thankyou so much Harry! Tonks was meant to have him, but Andromeda isn’t well, and she wants to spend time there. He hasn’t got all his vaccinations yet, so she didn’t want to take him with her,” Remus seemed to be rambling.

“Don’t worry, I’m more than happy to spend time with Teddy anytime. He is my godson after all.”

Harry spent the afternoon and evening in considerably brighter spirits. Spending the day alone with only his thoughts and big house had been quite a frightening prospect, but spending the day with Teddy only filled his mind with bright, happy thoughts.

He gave Draco a hug without hesitation before bed, and vaguely acknowledged to himself how much he’d been craving physical connection. It wasn’t that his friends were unaffectionate, but hugs seemed reserved for one’s boyfriend or girlfriend from what he could see. Harry thought it was a damn shame.

Harry crawled into bed, but Draco stayed standing next to the bed for a moment. Harry narrowed his eyes, “you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Draco sat cross legged on his side of the bed, facing Harry, “I was just thinking, well, I was wondering if you’d mind if I stayed here on Saturday. Just, Diagon Alley doesn’t feel very welcoming to me at the moment, you know?” he laughed humourlessly.

“Of course! That’ll be nice,” Harry said sincerely, “but, shit I forgot to tell you, Remus asked me to babysit Teddy on Saturday while they’re out.”

Draco looked confused, “who’s Teddy?”

“Remus’ son with Tonks - do you know her? - anyway, he’s my godson.”

“Oh,” Draco looked slightly put out and Harry wasn’t sure why.

“I’m sure he’d love if you spent the day with us as well,”

Draco smiled, “then that’s what I’ll do. For Teddy, of course.”

“Of course,”

They settled comfortably into bed and Harry thought that life couldn’t possibly get better.

 

Saturday arrived and Harry could practically feel Draco’s anxiety washing off him in waves all morning.

“What’s up with you?” he said as soon as he could pull him aside while the others were preparing to leave.

“Nothing!” Draco said, a little too defensively, before leaving Harry standing alone.

By the time Tonks arrived, though, Draco was so withdrawn that Harry was becoming legitimately worried.

Nevertheless, he hugged Tonks and accepted little Teddy into his waiting arms, along with a huge bag full of toys, nappies, baby food, and who knows what else. He listened attentively as Tonks explained Teddy’s nap times and how to prepare his bottle, but gratefully accepted the piece of paper on which Tonks had written every instruction he could possibly need.

He was just saying goodbye to everyone when he happened to glance behind him to find Narcissa giving Draco a tender hug, and whispering what looked like reassurances into his ears. Harry could barely contain his curiosity until everyone left, but managed to get Teddy settled on a blanket in the living room surrounded by toys before turning to Draco.

“Are you okay?”

Draco shifted himself so he was on the floor next to Harry and Teddy and fiddled with a toy sheep before answering with a shrug.

“Draco, please, just talk to me. We’re friends, right? You can trust me with anything.”

Draco looked up at Harry and when he spoke his voice was strained, almost pleading, “I know, I just had a bit of a freak out about something, okay? And I suppose I was a bit nervous about looking after Teddy. Never really have had children around,” he let out what Harry supposed was supposed to be a chuckle but it didn’t quite come out genuine.

Harry decided he wasn’t going to push the matter, and focused on the Teddy issue. “Well, lucky you’ve got me then! And Teddy’s easy, as long as you pull silly faces, he’s happy,” he turned his attention to the child in question, “aren’t you love?” he stuck his tongue out and Teddy giggled back at him, reaching towards his godfather. Harry caught him before he fell down and held him high in the air before he put him back down on the floor.

Before long, Teddy became curious about Draco, reaching out to him. When Draco lifted Teddy cautiously into his arms however, Teddy just pulled Draco’s hair. The resulting face and noise Draco made caused Teddy to laugh as though it was the funniest thing that had ever happened, and from that moment on, Draco seemed more confident. Harry watched Draco and Teddy play from the kitchen as he heated up Teddy’s bottle and made some lunch for him and Draco and thought that he wouldn’t mind more days like this.

After lunch, Harry put Teddy down to nap. Thankfully, the excitement of a new house and a new person meant that Teddy was exhausted and only took a few minutes to fall asleep.

Harry and Draco sat next to each other on the dusty old couch and Harry looked over at his friend, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I suppose not,” but Draco was smiling wide and Harry felt a warmth in his chest. 

As Teddy slept, Harry cleaned up after lunch, and Draco put on some soft music.

“So,” Harry said, sweeping around Draco to take dishes to the kitchen, “tell me something.”

Draco laughed out loud, “something like what?”

Harry shrugged, “I don’t know, something I don’t know, something nice.”

Draco looked at him oddly, “um, penguins mate for life?”

Harry laughed, “no, something about you! Do you know what you want to do after NEWTs results come out? Have you found any new music you like?”

Draco sat down on a bench stool as he thought, “well, I thought I’d quite like to apply for a research thing, for potions. There’s this program, where you can apply to work as an apprentice under a potion master in the Ministry. There’s a whole bunch of different areas, but I think I’d like to work with health potions and coming up with new ones and stuff…”

Draco looked somewhat unsettled at what he’d just revealed but Harry pulled him up and gave him a quick hug before saying, “that sounds wonderful! You’d be so good at that!”

They spent a while in silence, both lost in their own thoughts, Harry tinkering around with the kitchen, unable to decide where he wanted to keep the plates. After not nearly long enough, Harry heard Teddy wake from the other room. He brought him out into the living room, and Draco turned the music up. It was playing  _ I Want to Write You a Song. _ Teddy still in his arms, Harry began swaying to the music. Draco got up and held onto Teddy’s hands as he danced with him, pulling silly faces the whole time. He then reached up and grabbed Harry’s free hand, spinning him around. Harry and Teddy giggled as they were spun, and Harry stumbled against Draco when he was finally stopped. It was only then, as the music faded, that Harry realised everyone had come home. Hermione and Ron were standing at the front of the group, and Hermione had her hands over her face. He groaned. He could practically hear Hermione’s voice in his head saying how cute they were.

Everyone was distracted by the handover of Teddy and the display of their new purchases for the next hour. Ginny, Molly and Arthur had met up with the group at Diagon Alley and joined them now for afternoon tea. Just as everyone was settled and chatting quietly, Hermioine dragged Harry away from the group.

“So,” she said expectantly.

“So?” he quirked his eyebrows at her, wondering what she wanted.

“You and Draco!” she practically squeaked.

“What about me and Draco? You knew we were friends,” Harry said, genuinely confused.

“But, is that all you are?”

Harry stared at her for a long moment, “Of course it is, Hermione.”

“Okay.” she looked slightly disbelieving, “so nothing happened today? We looked after Teddy, we chatted, and we danced a bit. I think you saw the absolutely most incriminating thing you could’ve, but there’s nothing more to it.”

“You share a bed,” Hermione said, as though that proved her point.

“And?” Harry was getting tired of this. Things were so good right now, why did they have to be anything more that that?

“Was just wondering… never mind, you’re just friends.”

Thanking whatever gods had convinced Hermione to drop the subject, he followed her back out to the living room. Draco raised his eyebrows at him in question as they entered, and Harry shrugged in return.

 

Harry’s 18th birthday fell in the school holidays, as it did every year. He mentioned to Ron and Hermione that he would be okay with a small dinner, and maybe Molly and Arthur could come around. Apparently they took this to mean that he wanted a big party, and planned it completely.

His birthday was spent at the Burrow. Aside from the Malfoys, Weasleys, Hermione, Sirius and Remus, there were quite a few surprises. McGonagall popped in, though claimed she couldn’t stay long, Tonks was there with bright red and gold hair in honour of the birthday boy (Harry saw McGonagall looking very pleased when she noticed) and she brought Teddy, and various other members of the Order, including Kingsley. Ron and Hermione had also managed to invite a few people from school - Dean, Seamus, Neville and Luna were all there.

The evening was spent with firewhisky and cake.

At one point, after making sure that Teddy had been protected with appropriate silencing charms so that he wouldn’t be woken, Draco hijacked the speakers that were playing music softly and turned them way up playing One Direction.

Only he and Harry seemed to know the words, and they screamed  _ What Makes You Beautiful _ at the top of their lungs until everyone else joined in jumping around the living room, lyrics be damned. 

Harry’s party ended in a mess of bodies on the floor and hoarse voices.

The next morning, Molly woke them all with tea, toast, and a selection of fruits and Harry pulled her into a rough hug.

“Thanks so much for all this, Molly,”

“Oh Harry, of course. I hope you had a wonderful birthday,”

“I really did,”

He tucked into his breakfast and thought that if every birthday was like this - surrounded by family, friends and fun - he wouldn’t quite mind celebrating them a bit harder.

He opened the presents he hadn’t gotten around to the night before and was once again struck by the generosity of his friends, and the extent at which they seemed to understand him.


	15. Chapter 15

After being accosted by Hermione, and later Ginny, about Draco and “something clearly going on between you two”, Harry really couldn’t avoid analysing his own feelings about the situation. The conclusion he came to was that he was irrevocably in love with Draco Malfoy, a realisation that did not make him feel better at all.

Saturday night found Draco falling asleep while Harry was brushing his teeth. Harry was grateful for the lack of opportunity to talk, because he was sure Draco would ask what Hermione had pulled him aside to talk about. 

Sunday found Harry feeling grumpy and on edge all day. His recently-realised infatuation with his blonde best friend was nothing more than an annoyance and inconvenience, as far as he was concerned. As a result, he spent the day with Ron and George, and buried himself so effectively in cleaning and sorting that he barely had a moment to speak to anyone. In the afternoon, during their usual cup of tea, Ron pulled Harry aside. They sat on Harry and Draco’s bed and Harry waited for the inevitable interrogation.

“Uh, are you okay, mate? Only you’ve been practically stomping around the place all day. Did something happen?”

“What, has Hermione been talking to you about me? Can’t keep her opinions to herself can she?” Harry shocked both himself and Ron with the harshness of his words. He buried his head in his hands and took three deep breaths before looking up at Ron who looked seconds away from punching him.

“Look, mate, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you know Hermione is trying to help so I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt right now rather than punching your face in.”

Harry held his hands up in surrender, “you’re right, I’m sorry. Hermione was only trying to help, I know. I just, she wasn’t entirely wrong, and I didn’t know until she said it.”

Ron’s face was screwed up in concentration as he tried to work out what Harry was talking about, “wait, you mean you and Draco  _ are  _ dating?”

“No! I just mean…” Harry fiddled with a loose thread on his pillowcase, “I wouldn’t mind if we were.”

“Oh,” Ron was spared the chance to say anything else by the unannounced arrival of Draco who walked into the room without a care in the world, and stopped suddenly upon seeing it wasn’t empty.

“Oh, sorry! Didn’t realise you guys were talking in here, just came to get my phone.”

Draco moved towards them, clearly unnerved by Ron and Harry both watching him rather than continuing their conversation. In another life, Harry would’ve found this situation hilarious. Draco bent down to retrieve his phone from the bedroom drawer, and took the opportunity to lock eyes with Harry.

“You okay?”

Harry nodded and looked away. He waited until he heard the door close softly behind Draco before looking up again.

“Harry,” Ron said, “I think we both know I’m no good at this, but I feel like you’ve got a shot with him. Are you going to tell him?”

Harry laughed and it sounded hollow even to his own ears, “No fucking way. He doesn’t even like boys.”

“Oh,” Ron said for the second time, “Sorry, mate.”

Ron clapped Harry on the back and left him alone in his room.

Harry took the opportunity to gather himself before following him out, and attempted to be less obviously angry at the world for the remainder of the afternoon.

 

It became clear that he’d failed in that goal when Draco sat cross legged on the bed once again that night, with a concerned look in his eyes.

“Is everything okay?”

Harry fought the urge to say, “I’m fine.” He didn’t really need to hurt his friendship with Draco anymore right now. Instead, he just hesitated for a moment too long.

“I thought you were happy yesterday, if I did something, I mean, I’m sorry if the dancing wasn’t okay, or, or something?”

Harry’s chest tightened. Great, he’s already fucked up.

“No, Draco, no, it’s not you.” To prove his point, he took a step closer to the bed and pulled Draco in for a hug. He felt like he never wanted to let go, and the thought that he loved Draco more than Draco would ever love him burned in his chest. His eyes prickled and he held on tight, though it was becoming far longer a hug than was normal for them. To Draco’s credit, he held on as long as Harry needed.

When they pulled apart, Draco looked no less concerned as Harry wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

“Harry, talk to me, please,”

Harry opened his mouth but all that came out was a tiny whimper. Everything was perfect yesterday, and now he was falling apart? Harry hated himself sometimes. Why couldn’t he just keep living a lie?

“I don’t know, nothing’s wrong,” Harry almost laughed at how unlikely Draco would be to believe that statement, “I’m just, Hermione said something and I’m just a bit lost in my own head,” he knew he sounded crazy, “you know?”

Draco nodded, though Harry was sure he didn’t know, and said, “Okay. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

Harry shook his head, but then whispered, “the hugs are nice.”

Draco’s face broke into a smile at that, and he pulled Harry back in. Harry let himself enjoy this one, and they both relaxed into it. Harry let himself memorise the smell of apple-scented shampoo Draco had used, the feeling of Draco’s spine under his hands, the sound of Draco’s soft breathing against his chest.

By the time they actually got into bed, Harry really did feel better. Draco might not love him the way Harry loved Draco, but he was a good friend. Harry could live with that.

 

Despite Harry’s newfound calmness in regards to his unrequited love, Draco seemed more distracted and jumpy as time went on and Harry could not figure out what’s wrong. Every time he asked, Draco dismissed it and said he was fine, or said it was something silly or inconsequential. Harry didn’t believe this for a moment, and told him such as they sat on their bed one evening.

“If it’s making you anxious or sad or whatever, then it matters, damn it Draco!” Harry resisted the urge to get up and start pacing. He grabbed onto his own hair as an outlet for his restless energy, “you matter! Your feelings matter!”

Draco, far from being reassured, glared at Harry, “you don’t even fucking know what I’m talking about! Maybe I don’t! Maybe I’m just fucking broken and that’s it! I’m not even good at being a functional fucking person, so maybe I should just fucking die!”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Harry practically screamed, but Draco was already slamming the door behind him.

Harry shrunk back down on the bed, hands covering his eyes and tried to process what had just happened. Was Draco so delusional that he thought he was the only one with shitty mental health around here? Was that even what he was talking about? Harry’s breath was coming in short bursts and his chest tightened as he relived the last thirty seconds in his head.

The door handle twisted and Harry was this close to telling Draco to fuck off when a mess of red hair appeared in his room.

“Hi Ron,” Harry relaxed again.

“Uh, you alright mate?”

“Fine,” he laughed bitterly, “Draco just won’t fucking talk to me.”

Ron smiled weakly, “yeah, thought we heard a little lovers’ spat.”

“We’re not fucking lovers,” Harry snapped. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for joking about that right now. There was definitely no hope for a romantic relationship if Draco couldn’t even trust him when they were friends.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just, I don’t get him, you know?” he threw his arms into the air helplessly, “Everything was fine, right, and now he’s just been acting weird, and he just fucking blew up at me, saying all this shit about how broken he is, and not a proper human, I don’t know.” Harry deflated by the end of his sentence. He didn’t want to feel sorry for Draco when he was angry at him, but he yearned to hold him and tell him he wasn’t broken, that everything would be okay.

“Mate, sounds like he’s got some shit going on… Maybe you need to just let it go, let him talk to you when he’s ready?”

“What if he’s never ready?”

“Then he’s never ready,” Ron shrugged, “but he’ll still have you, yeah?”

Harry nodded, and Ron pushed him over to lay down on Draco’s side of the bed. 

“Hermione’s inviting Draco to stay in our room, I’m staying here,” he said, as though relaying orders - which, Harry thought, he probably was.

Ron fell asleep before Harry, and Harry longed that his quiet snoring would be replaced by Draco’s deep breathing and soft sniffles.

 

The next day, under Ron’s orders - which Harry suspected had originally come from Hermione - Harry sought Draco out to apologise.

“Look,” he said, during a brief moment in which the kitchen was empty except for them, “I’m sorry, about last night. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. And, I don’t know what you meant about being broken, but it sounds like you’re being too hard on yourself and I want to be here for you, even if you’re not ready to tell me what’s going on.”

Draco let out a noise which could’ve been disbelief or derision, but his eyes were sincere as they met Harry’s.

“I’m sorry too, I don’t really know what to say. Thank you for being there.”

Harry pulled the taller boy towards him and gave him a tight hug.

“We’re alright at this friendship thing, aren’t we?”

Draco half-smiled, “we’re okay.”

 

Neither of them mentioned Draco’s secret doubts again, but Harry continued to grow antsy at how often Draco’s demeanor would completely change for no apparent reason. Hermione - bless her - was convinced that Draco was secretly in love with Harry, no matter how many times Harry said that wasn’t possible. Until one day, Hermione pulled Harry into her and Ron’s room and sat him down.


	16. Chapter 16

“Hermione, what are you doing?”

“I’m sick of this moping! You and Draco are perfect for each other, why aren’t you together?”

“Um maybe because he doesn’t like me? Leave it alone, Hermione.”

Hermione pushed him back down from where he’d tried to rise from his chair.

“Not until you look at this.”

She pulled back a makeshift screen in the corner of the room and revealed a brightly glowing pensieve. 

“What’s this?” Harry’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s a pensieve,” Hermione said simply, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Okay, and whose memories are we going to watch?”

“Mine.”

Hermione didn’t seem to be in a particularly explanatory mode and Harry found this more frustrating than when she was a walking textbook.

“Fine, let’s get this over with.”

Hermione lead the way to the corner of the room, flicking her wand behind her to lock the door as she went.

They looked at each other and bent over the pensieve. They fell and landed in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Harry looked around, and saw Hermione, Ron and himself sitting at the Gryffindor table. It was breakfast time.

“I can’t believe Hagrid’s skrewts, what was he thinking!” Ron was saying, from his position opposite Harry and Hermione. Hermione half-heartedly continued the conversation with diplomatic answers.

“Yes quite horrible,”

Harry, however, was staring across the room at the Slytherin table. At Draco.

After mere minutes, the trio got up to walk out of the room. As they did, Hermione lagged behind a minute to look towards the Slytherins. Current-Harry followed her gaze and saw Draco staring after Harry as he left the hall, and his expression was softer than Harry had ever seen it in those days. The second he caught Hermione looking, however, it turned back into a snarl so quickly Harry could’ve sworn he imagined it.

The scene around him swirled and changed.

They were younger now, first year. Harry watched himself and Ron climb the stairs to the Gryffindor tower, then turned to find a young Hermione who had stopped to rearrange the books in her arms. As he watched, a young Draco, Crabbe and Goyle meandered slowly past.

“Seriously, Draco,” Crabbe was saying, “You talk about Potter too much, it’s boring,”

“I find him  _ interesting _ ,” Draco snarled, “not that you’d know anything about having interests, you great troll.”

The scene changed again, and this time they were in the eighth year common room. It must’ve been close to the beginning of the year. Harry saw himself sitting with Seamus and Ron by the fire, and spotted Draco and Hermione by the library. Draco was writing something, and Hermione was wandering around the bookshelves. He watched Hermione look down at what Draco was writing and moved effortlessly closer so he could see what she’d seen.

_ I think I’m beginning to like Harry Potter, _ a neat scrawl said,  _ he is oddly thoughtful, and doesn’t have as many annoying habits as I thought. He says goodnight to be every night, and I think that if he stopped, I’d miss it. _

Harry barely had time to finish reading, let alone process the text, before the scene changed yet again.

Now, Hermione was alone in the common room when Draco came down, tie undone and hair a mess.

“Hermione,” he said.

“Draco,” she said, surprise evident in her tone.

“Um, it’s Harry, he won’t get out of bed. He, well, I don’t know what’s wrong, I think something’s wrong, but I’m not, I don’t think I’m the right person to deal with this.”

Draco’s normally collected demeanour was completely shattered and Harry watched in amazement as Draco ran his hands through his hair nervously. He looked like he was on the verge of tears.

Harry watched as Draco hovered awkwardly around Harry’s bed while Hermione helped him out of his funk. Draco’s hands went through his usually perfect hair countless times and by the time Harry was out of bed, he looked like a wreck.

After Harry had been sent to the shower, Hermione spoke to Draco. “He’s okay, he’s developed some issues with anxiety after the war, but he’ll be fine… are you okay?”

Draco took a deep breath, and answered her honestly, “I suppose. Just worried. He’s quite grown on me, you know?”

Hermione smiled knowingly, “I think I do.”

Harry watched Draco and Hermione grin at each other as though sharing a secret, and then Hermione started down the stairs and the scene faded.

The next was Platform 9 ¾. It was their last day of Eighth year. Harry watched himself painfully resist hugging Draco, but it was only now evident that Draco was resisting the very same thing himself. Harry watched himself and Draco stare longingly after each other as they left with their respective families and thought that this scene wouldn’t be out of place in some kind of muggle romance film about star-crossed lovers.

The scene changed.

He was in Ron and Hermione’s room. Harry heard himself scream “What the fuck does that mean?” and a door slam and immediately recognised what night it was. Ron and Hermione were in their bed, and exchanged looks.

“Go see if Harry’s okay. I’ll look after Draco. I think you should stay with Harry tonight too, and I’ll let Draco sleep in here,” Hermione said, “and there’s no need to be jealous, you’re the only man for me,”

They shared a quick kiss and Harry felt rude intruding on their private memory like this. He and Hermione followed the couple down the hallway. He watched Hermione give Ron’s hand a quick squeeze before it raised up to open the door to the room Harry was in. They followed Hermione further down to where Draco was sitting on the couch. He was shaking and Harry felt immensely guilty, knowing that he’d done that to him.

Memory-Hermione sat down next to Draco and put her arm around his shoulders.

“You okay?”

Draco snorted, “do I look okay?”

Hermione grimaced, “want to talk about it?”

“He just, I’m never going to be good enough for him, you know? I can’t give him a real relationship.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, but, for what it’s worth, if you want a relationship with Harry, I think you’ve got a chance.”

“He deserves better than me,”

“No, Draco, you’re perfect for him,”

Draco laughed hollowly, “you don’t even know me,”

“I do know you,” Hermione said, “and more to the point, I know Harry, and I know how happy you make him,”

Draco rolled his eyes and Hermione’s eyes narrowed. Harry watched the moment she decided to give up on that conversation for the night. The scene faded and Harry found himself looking at Hermione over the pensieve.

“What’s he talking about, Hermione?” he said, as soon as he got his voice back, “why does he think he’s broken, why does he think he’s not good enough?” his voice cracked.

“I don’t know,” Hermione said sadly, “but I suggest you go tell him he is good enough,”

Harry nodded.

 

When he got back to his and Draco’s room, however, his resolve had dissolved into nerves. What was he going to say? Draco wouldn’t be happy that he’d seen a private moment between him and Hermione, or read a page from his diary, or anything like that. He decided to just go for it and deal with that all later.

“Draco,” he said quietly, pushing the door open slowly in case Draco had already gone to bed.

“Hey,” Draco was sitting propped up in bed, reading. He shook his hair out of his eyes to look up at Harry as he entered the room.

“What’s wrong? You okay?”

Harry remained in the middle of the room, not quite sure what angle he was going to take with this.

“Uh, Draco,”

“Yes?”

“I like you,” ah, so the straight to the point angle apparently.

“Oh?” Draco seemed to be trying to act cool and nonchalant but his eyebrows had practically disappeared and Harry could see the flutter of the book he was holding as his hands shook.

“Like, properly like you, like, want to maybe, date you?” Harry grimaced at how high his voice had gone.

Draco stared at him for what felt like forever.

“Oh,” Draco pulled the covers back and stood in front of Harry, “I, I really like you, Harry, but I can’t,”

Before Harry could respond, Draco was gathering his book and phone and walking out of the room. Harry’s chest tightened as he watched Draco leave and felt his breath get shallower and quicker. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes.

Harry sent an SOS patronus to Ron - which was probably a bit dramatic, even he could recognise that - and curled into a ball on the bed.

Ron appeared seconds later, not bothering to knock or be quiet.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

Harry whispered, “he rejected me.” and didn’t move a muscle.

“Oh,” Ron said, as though still processing this information, “oh, Harry,” he sat on the bed and his hands started rubbing comforting circles on Harry’s back.

Ron shared Harry’s bed for the second time.

 

The next morning was probably what hell was like, and Harry was grateful he’d only seen purgatory. Draco was overly nice to him, and Harry could tell he felt guilty. Harry, having cried out everything he had the night before, felt somewhat numb and just tried to avoid Draco for most of the day. Ron stuck by his side almost aggressively, and George began following them around. He didn’t ask why Harry was upset, for which Harry was grateful, but he also made every effort to joke as much as possible to try and cheer him up. Hermione kept a wide berth from him, and Harry noticed she was spending a fair bit of time with Draco. Harry supposed she felt a little bit responsible and he couldn’t lie, he did kind of blame her.

Harry was trying exceptionally hard to feel zen about the whole thing. He kept telling himself that he’d been happy with them just being friends before this, so he could deal with it now. Only, now he’d been rejected and embarrassed and it’d probably be easier to just sink into the ground forevermore. 

The day passed with little incident, but with more silences than most days, which Sirius was quick to pick up on.

“Okay, what is it?” he said at lunchtime.

“What’s what?” Ron asked.

“What’s going on with you guys, is there teen drama going on, did one of you do something weird to your genitals, what’s the goss that’s got you all acting like this?”

Harry almost choked on his soup.

“Harry, you’ve been wandering around the house looking like a kicked puppy, what’s going on?”

Remus kicked Sirius very hard (and quite publicly, considering they were sitting on the couch, rather than the dining table), and Draco excused himself as quickly as he could do politely. Harry didn’t know where Lucius and Narcissa were, but he was very glad they weren’t here to see this.

“Uh,” he said, looking up at his godfather. He could trust Sirius, he knew this, “it’s… complicated,” he finished lamely, having lost his nerve.

“Not really,” Ron mused a little too loud into his bowl.

Hermione delivered a swift slap to his thigh.

Harry tried again.

“Uh, I kind of… asked Draco out,” he stared at the carpet in front of him as Remus, Sirius and George took in this news.

“He said no?” Remus said softly.

Harry let out a sound that might have been amusement or disbelief, “of course he did.”

Sirius took this moment to change into a big black dog and curled himself into Harry’s lap. Harry lowered his head into Sirius’ fur and held on to his godfather. 

“Well he’s an idiot,” George said helpfully, apparently having gotten over the surprise remarkably quickly.

A bark of laughter rippled through the room at that, and Harry found himself feeling better for having them all there with him, though he didn’t raise his head from the comforting pillow of fur.

 

After lunch, Hermione followed Harry into his room and closed his room.

“Harry,” she seemed uncertain, “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but I think you do have a chance with Draco,”

Harry felt anger rising inside of him, how could she say that when Draco had rejected him less than 24 hours ago?

“Just, what did he exactly say when you asked him?”

“He said he couldn’t,” Harry told her hollowly, “and then he left, there’s not that much to tell.”

“But Harry, don’t you see? He said he couldn’t, not he didn’t want to. I think this has something to do with the ‘broken’ thing he was talking about. I just think it’s something he’s got to move past, and you guys will be fine.”

“Sure Hermione,” Harry made to move past her, wanting nothing more than the painful hope she was trying to give him.

“I’m serious! And in any case, he feels really bad, so maybe talk to him?”

Harry didn’t bother answering and instead made his way back to where Ron and George were levitating old trinkets and forcing them to do battle in mid air.

 

That night, Harry grew increasingly anxious throughout dinner at the prospect of retiring to a room that he and Draco shared, a  _ bed _ that he and Draco shared. He really had fucked this one up, hadn’t he? What kind of person asks someone out when they’re living together, let alone when they’re already sharing a bed? Harry felt more and more stupid, and more and more anxious as the evening drew to a close, and by the time he entered the bedroom, he was ready to collapse into a horrible mess and never get out of bed again.

He had five minutes alone in his room before Draco entered. During this time, he got into his pyjamas, paced the room, perched uncomfortably on the bed, sat back against the pillows - somehow, also uncomfortably - and stood stock still in the centre of the room. He was just starting to think that maybe Draco wasn’t going to come and stay there at all because he hated Harry and always had and always will, when Draco pushed the door open and entered.

They stood and looked at each other for what felt like forever. Harry thought he would implode with indecision about how to handle this situation. Then Draco spoke.

“I’m sorry,”

Harry rolled his eyes, but they were wet with tears, “what for? You don’t have to date someone you don’t want to,”

Draco’s eyes widened, “no, Harry, I do want to!”

“Don’t play tricks with me, Draco,”

Draco took a deep breath, and Harry thought he looked like he wanted to cry too.

“I’m not, Harry. I want to. I like you a lot, but I just, I can’t.”

“Why not? Draco, whatever reason you have, we can work it out! I don’t get it!” Harry really was crying now, spurred on by the frustration he was having with this conversation.

“You don’t want to date me, Harry,” Draco said, and he looked like he was falling apart.

“Fucking try me,” Harry said dangerously, glaring at Draco, not able to believe that Draco was trying to tell him what he did and did not want, when he’d never been more sure of anything than his love for Draco.

“No, Harry, just trust me,”

“No, you can’t tell me what I do and do not want, and I want you, Draco,”

Draco shook his head.

“No you don’t,”

“Yes, I do,” Harry growled in frustration, “you think you’re the only one with baggage? We’ve all just come out of a war, Draco! None of us are easy to be with, but I want to try with you!”

Draco kept shaking his head and Harry fell onto the bed, hands over his face in frustration. He felt Draco sit down next to him and pulled himself up into a sitting position.

“Please,”

Draco looked like he wanted to start shaking his head again.

“Can you at least tell me what this dealbreaker is then? So I’m not forever wondering why a relationship with the great Draco Malfoy was doomed from the start?”

Draco looked terrified at the prospect, and Harry felt bad asking when he was vulnerable.

“You don’t have to tell me, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “Just frustrated…”

“Sex,” Draco said, and it was barely a whisper. Harry wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.

“Sex?” 

“I don’t, I don’t want sex,” Draco was staring at his fingers which were tangled in the bedclothes. His words came out so quietly that Harry wasn’t sure he’d even heard them.

“Uhh,” out of all the things that had run through Harry’s mind during this whole thing, this hadn’t been one of them, “I wasn’t suggesting, we can take things slow as you want, you know,”

“No,” Draco said, more firmly this time, “I’m asexual, I don’t want sex. Ever.” his eyes were shining with tears and Harry had no idea what to say to that.

“That’s okay,”

“No, it’s not,” Draco spat, and Harry was taken aback.

“What? Of course it’s okay. It’s you, it’s fine.”

“But you want sex, don’t you, Harry?”

Harry was still trying to wrap his head around this conversation, and didn’t know how to answer. “I mean, I guess. I haven’t thought about it that much, but it’s what you do, isn’t it?”

“But that’s exactly it, Harry! It’s not what I do, it’s never what I do. Even you, our great saviour, can’t say that you want someone like that.”

“Draco, no,” he pulled at his own hair, in an attempt to straighten out his thoughts, “I don’t really understand, but I still like you, I’d still like to date you, if you’ll have me.”

Draco shot him with a piercing look, “don’t humour me, Potter, you don’t have to settle for me. Get some sleep.”

With that, got into bed and extinguished the light with a wave of his wand. Harry stayed awake for hours, and when morning came he knew without a doubt that he wanted Draco, sex or no sex.

 

Because Harry had stayed awake for so long and slept fitfully, he slept in longer than he usually would have. By the time he woke up, he was alone in the bed. The conversation of the previous night came back to him in parts and he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else until he spoke to Draco. He got ready for the day slowly, anxiously delaying the possibility of another fight, this time with witnesses.

When he emerged, everyone else had already eaten. Hermione, Ron, George, Sirius and Remus were sitting around the kitchen table, a newspaper divided amongst Remus and George and a book open in front of Hermione’s teacup.

“Hey,” Harry announced his approach.

Hermione’s face tightened in worry but she didn’t say anything apart from nodding hello.

“Uh,” Harry tried to make his question sound as casual as possible, “where are the Malfoys?”

“Draco convinced his parents to take him to Diagon Alley,” Sirius said, a sneer in his voice, “was a right little snot about it too, and here I was thinking he’d changed.”

“He has changed,” Hermione said sternly, “he’s probably just having a bad day or something.”

Sirius exhaled a noise of disagreement but did not continue the conversation.

“Oh,” Harry said, “did they say how long they’d be?”

“No, sorry, Harry,” Remus said, and he looked at Harry like he was a sick child, someone who deserved pity.

Harry shook his head, muttering something about being fine, and set about making himself some tea and toast. 

By lunchtime, the Malfoys had still not arrived home and Harry was so antsy he hadn’t gotten anything done that he’d intended to.

“Why don’t you just call him? Text him? Do something, you’re stressing  _ me _ out,” Ron said bitterly the third time Harry had accidentally knocked down a precarious stack of papers with his pacing.

Harry stared for a long second, “you’re a genius,” he told Ron, before leaving the room quickly in search of his mobile phone. 

It took him almost ten minutes to figure out where he’d left his phone and get it out of the jacket pocket it had been in for a week. It then took another five for it to charge long enough to turn on. 

Harry stared at the screen for a moment, slightly disappointed by the lack of notifications before remembering that no one ever calls or texts him because he’s notoriously bad at checking his phone. This just shows that Draco knows him well.

He searched down his contacts and found Draco’s name, opening up a new message.

Hesitating, he realised he’d been so excited by the prospect of being able to contact Draco, that he hadn’t actually figured out what he was going to say.

_ Draco, I need to talk to you, _ he wrote and deleted.

_ Hi Draco, when are you getting back? _ He wrote and deleted.

_ Miss you _ , he wrote and deleted. One day, he thought.

_ I still want you,  _ he wrote and hesitated,  _ with or without sex. That doesn’t matter to me. Please come home so we can talk.  _ His finger hovered over the button and he felt like he sat there for eternity before building up the courage to lower it. He watched as a tiny ‘sent’ came up on the screen and went to put his phone down. 

_ But,  _ said that little voice inside his head,  _ what if he replies? _

For the next half hour, Harry checked his phone so often that the only interactions he got from the others were pitying glances or frustrated glares. Sending a message didn’t help him feel any less antsy at all and he wandered aimlessly from room to room, not taking anything in. On what must’ve been his tenth lap around the house, he arrived into the kitchen to see three blond heads bent over the kitchen table. Upon closer look, they were divvying up a ridiculous amount of shopping bags between Draco and his parents.

Harry stood and stared. He didn’t even know if Draco had gotten his text. But, there was no backing out now. At the very least, Draco would check his phone before bed, he’d see it. He’d ask why Harry hadn’t brought it up all afternoon. There was nothing for it.

Still, Harry didn’t move.

Eventually, Narcissa turned around, “Oh, good afternoon, Harry,”

“Good afternoon, Narcissa,” Harry smiled as pleasantly as he could, mind already racing, hoping to Merlin Draco would have him. Maybe one day Narcissa would be his mother-in-law…

Trying not to dwell on becoming a member of the Malfoy family, because, really, he was getting a bit ahead of himself, Harry greeted Lucius as well.

Narcissa and Lucius, perhaps sensing that there were things unsaid between Harry and Draco, or perhaps Draco had told them, soon gathered their bags and made their way down the hallway towards their room.

Draco, a handful of his own plastic bags, turned to Harry and said, simply, “hi.”

“Hey,” Harry said, and followed him into their own room. He shut the door behind him, very strongly feeling that they wouldn’t want to be interrupted during this conversation.

“Uh,” Harry started, as Draco put his bags at the end of their bed, “did you… get my text?”

It was lame and Harry knew it, but he needed to know where they stood. 

“Yeah, but…” Harry’s heart practically stopped as Draco continued, “I think you’d regret it,”

Harry waited for him to say something else, but when he didn’t, Harry took a step closer to where Draco was sitting on the bed, “I wouldn’t, I promise you,”

“You can’t promise that,” and Draco’s voice came out almost like a whine.

“I can. I want  _ you _ , Draco. I can’t promise that we won’t fight, or that we’ll never have problems. I can’t even promise that I won’t sometimes want sex, but we’ll work through it.”

Draco looked at him, “I don’t know,”

“Draco,” Harry waited until Draco looked up at him. He moved so that he was standing between Draco’s legs, “is it okay if I kiss you?”

Draco’s eyes shone with hope, and he nodded.

Harry felt like he could’ve died as relief flooded his body. He put his left hand lightly on Draco’s cheek, and bent down so their lips met. The kiss was soft and short, but Harry didn’t think he’d ever felt so connected with another person.

He bundled Draco up in his arms, and felt Draco melt into them. He pulled away after a long moment, and reached one hand up into Draco’s hair. He stared at amazement at his own hand threaded in blond hair that he never thought he’d get permission to touch.

Green eyes met grey, and Harry said softly, “boyfriends?”

Draco smiled, wider than Harry had seen in a long time, and whispered back, “boyfriends.”

They spent the afternoon in their bedroom, talking and holding hands and marveling at their newfound relationship.

“So,” Draco said as the sky began to darken, “I guess we tell everyone tonight?”

“If that’s okay with you?” Harry said, “they all - except your parents - know I’m gone for you anyway,”

Draco laughed, “really?”

Harry bit his lip, “uh, yeah. I’m not that good at keeping secrets, and I was pretty upset when you rejected me, so…”

Draco kissed him on the cheek.

“Um,” Draco said, pulling away, “my parents don’t even know I like boys yet,”

“Oh,” Harry said, surprised, “well if you want to wait to tell them, I don’t mind,”

Draco looked torn.

“We won’t tell anyone tonight, if that’s what you want. Don’t worry,”

Draco looked relieved and squeezed Harry’s hand.

“Thankyou, it’s a lot, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,”

They shared another chaste kiss and Draco followed Harry out to meet the others for dinner.

When they arrived, they arrived to a show. Remus and Sirius were making dinner, very loudly. Sirius seemed to be levitating various herbs and spices and Remus was trying to grab them out of the air. He seemed to be fluctuating between genuine frustration and laughter. Harry really wasn’t sure if this would end in a slap or not.

Harry and Draco moved to join Ron, Hermione and George in the doorway as they watched the proceedings.

“Sirius!” Remus was yelling, “you’re so” he jumped for the cumin, “bloody,” he almost slipped on the wet floor, “annoying!”

Sirius laughed and sent the spices spinning in circles around Remus’ head, “nah, you love me,”

“Not for fucking long,” Remus gritted out.

“What’s going on?” Harry whispered to Ron.

Ron leaned towards him, not taking his eyes off Sirius and Remus. “Well, apparently Sirius told Remus that now he’s got the wolfsbane he doesn’t get enough exercise during the full moon. I guess this is his way of making Remus exercise?” he sounded amused, if not confused.

“Right,” Harry said. He turned briefly to see Narcissa and Lucius join the crowd of onlookers.

“You know you have to eat this dinner too, you daft dog?”

As though Remus had said the magic word, Sirius transformed into a big black dog. His wand fell, and with it, all the spices that had been levitating.

“SIRIUS!” Remus shouted, now surrounded by smashed bottles and covered in various coloured powders, “I’m going to KILL YOU!”

Sirius barked and wagged his tail, before jumping onto Remus and trying to lick his face. Remus pushed him away and Sirius turned back into a human. He grabbed his wand, muttered a quick reparo that didn’t save any spices but did remove the hazard of broken glass, and resumed trying to lick Remus’ face.

“Sirius, you’re not a dog, stop it!” But by now, Remus was laughing as he attempted to push Sirius away.

Sirius gave up attempting to lick and instead peppered Remus’ face with kisses. Remus, apparently sick of this, grabbed Sirius’ face in between both his hands, and kissed him deeply on the mouth.

As they made out, apparently ignorant of the crowd they’d gathered, Harry heard Lucius behind him mutter out a single word.

“Disgusting,”

“Excuse me?” Harry said loudly, he’d never been one to control his temper, “what did you just say?”

Lucius curled his lip up at Harry and did not back down, “I said it’s disgusting, two men like that.”

Harry’s hands curled into fists at his side, and he felt Ron tense beside him.

“Get out,” he said as calmly as he could.

“Excuse me?” Lucius mocked.

“This is my house, you are here purely out of my good will. If you’re going to make comments like that about my family, you can get out of my house.”

No one said anything for a long time, but Harry heard Sirius and Remus come up behind the group and was almost certain Remus was holding Sirius back from hitting the jerk.

“Very well,” Lucius said coolly, “Apparently Potter’s hospitality only extends so far. Let’s gather our things, Narcissa.”

“Narcissa is welcome to stay if she wishes,” Harry said clearly.

Harry watched as Narcissa’s eyes met Draco’s. After a very tense few minutes, she turned to her husband and said “I can’t leave Draco, Lucius. Good luck,”

The group retreated into the kitchen as Lucius disappeared up the hallway to gather his belongings. He didn’t appear again, but Harry heard the floo roar to life from the other room five minutes later.

He sagged against the kitchen bench and felt like he wanted to cry. Sirius pulled him into a rough hug. Remus gave him a kiss on the head as soon as he could.

Harry looked up from the spot on the floor he’d memorised, cinnamon and all, and locked eyes with Draco. Draco stood beside his mother, his arm around her shoulders. She looked remarkably okay, but Harry supposed she’d had plenty of practice at that. Draco however, just looked sad. Harry didn’t really know where they stood right now, but he couldn’t let Draco just stand there and continue looking like that.

He walked away from Sirius and Remus and tucked his arm around Draco’s waist. Almost like instinct, Draco dropped his arm from his mother and wound it around Harry. They held on tight and Harry squeezed his eyes shut. After a minute, he heard George begin to divert attention by leading the spice clean up. 

When Harry pulled away from Draco, he noticed Narcissa standing a respectable distance away, pointedly not looking at them. He was ever grateful for her tact. He took Draco’s hand and lead him into the living room. They sat side by side on the couch and Harry wanted to cry.

“You okay?” he asked Draco.

“Um, not really,” Draco said. An attempt at a joke.

Harry just pulled him against his body, and they sat like that until Hermione called that dinner was ready.

“Might as well tell them all now though?” Draco said

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Draco clasped Harry’s hand and they entered the kitchen. Sirius was still looking murderous, whispering under his breath to Remus. Everyone else seemed to be trying to act as though nothing had happened.

“Um,” Draco said loudly, “we’ve got some news.”

Everyone looked towards them and Draco just raised their intertwined hands. They were met with a squeal from Hermione, and instantly everyone got out of their seats. Narcissa reached them first, and went straight to her son.

“I’m happy if you’re happy, love,” she said.

“Thankyou mother,” Draco had never sounded so relieved.

Ron gave Harry a thump on the back in congratulations and George pulled him into a quick hug as Hermione was flinging herself around Draco’s neck. Remus and Sirius waited until everyone else had mostly moved away and then pulled both Harry and Draco into a huge hug.

“You’re always safe here,” Remus said fiercely. 

Harry resisted the urge to point out that this was his house and instead gave Draco a kiss on the cheek before going to sit down. Dinner was a considerably more enjoyable affair after that, and Harry thought that this family he’d assembled must be one of the best in the world.

 


	17. Chapter 17

The next day, Draco seemed to feel more ready to talk.

“I mean, I always knew he was a bit of a dickhead,” he said to Harry as they lay in bed, hands intertwined and faces close, “but I thought, when it came down to it, everything mum said applied to him too, you know? All the, ‘we love you no matter what’ stuff. Apparently not.”

“He still doesn’t know about us, yet. He might come ‘round.”

“Nah, I don’t really want him to. I’ve honestly spent half my life wishing that we weren’t so pureblood and important so my parents could get divorced without causing a huge fuss. Always thought she could do better.”

Harry stroked Draco’s hair, because he wanted to more than anything else. 

“But he’s not evil, you know? Just a little… small minded.”

“I know,” Harry soothed, “and the Order are watching him, they’ll find him somewhere safe to stay. It’s easier if it’s just one person.”

Draco nodded as best he could while lying down.

“Thankyou, Harry,”

“For what?”

“For… this. For taking us in when you really didn’t have to.”

“I couldn’t leave you where you were. And honestly… I was a fair bit excited to see you again.”

Draco grinned and Harry thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful. They shared a kiss and got up to prepare for the day.

 

 

Now that all the rooms had been emptied, it was time to decide on bedrooms and interior design. Harry opted for wooden floors throughout the house and plain white tiles for the bathrooms. They got a professional in to do the floors, but it meant everyone had to be out of the house for half a day. 

They decided to go on another group trip to Diagon Alley. This time, Harry, Draco and Teddy would all be joining Remus, Sirius, Ron, Hermione, George and Narcissa.

They made a very strange group, Harry thought, as they strolled down the street. If someone had told him in third year that he’d be living with two Malfoys, a werewolf, and convicted murderer Sirius Black, he’d never have believed it.

They received plenty of strange looks as they walked up the street towards Gringott’s but thankfully no one really tried to interact with them. Harry supposed they did seem quite intimidating. Harry Potter walking down the street with Narcissa Malfoy was probably a little confusing as well.

After retrieving their money from Gringott’s with no problems, they stood in the sun outside the white stone building.

“Should we split up?” George said. 

Harry felt a bit uneasy at the thought.

“We don’t really have anything we need to get done, I think stick together?” Draco echoed Harry’s thoughts, and Harry thought that perhaps he was more anxious about this outing than he’d let on.

“Sure,” Hermione said, “But I must visit Flourish and Blotts.”

They spent the day in relative calm. Harry could tell Draco was anxious and even though he was hiding it well, Harry wanted to reach out and hold his hand. Even just because he could. But, they hadn’t discussed going public and Harry wasn’t sure Draco would be too happy to have it sprung on him like that. As it was, he caught glimpses of sneaky mobile phone cameras taking shots of the group going about their business, and knew he’d be in the Prophet tomorrow. In what capacity, he had no idea.  _ Harry Potter succumbs to the Dark Side with Former Death Eater Draco Malfoy? Draco Malfoy Forgiven by Saviour Harry Potter? _ He found he didn’t really want to know. 

As soon as they got back to the house, before even looking at the new floors, Harry snaked his arm around Draco’s middle and pulled him close. He felt like it had been years since they’d been allowed to touch. Draco, seeming to sense Harry’s desperation, just chuckled and kissed the top of his head. They stayed firmly by each other’s sides as the entire group traipsed through the house looking at the new floorboards. Harry had to admit they were impressive, and made the house look much bigger. The wood was shiny and Harry could already picture Teddy wearing socks to slide down the hallway - probably with Sirius right behind him.

Harry didn’t fail to notice the looks Hermione was giving him. She kept surreptitiously (or so she thought) glancing at where he and Draco had their arms around each other and clasping her hands together, or making a squeaky noise of joy. Harry would’ve ordinarily told her to kick it off but he was very close to making very similar noises himself. 

As the family gathered around the dining table, and Narcissa began preparing tea while talking animatedly to Remus, Draco detached himself from Harry with a whisper that he’d be back in a second. Within no time at all, Hermione had replaced him by Harry’s side.

“You seem happy,” she said, quietly enough that no one but Harry could hear.

“I am,” Harry said needlessly, as he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

“Did you find out what’s wrong? The broken thing?”

Harry looked at her and wasn’t sure how to answer. He decided to go with the truth.

“Yeah, he told me, but it’s fine. He thinks it’s more of a big deal than it is,”

Hermione continued just looking at Harry, as though waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, she pushed, “so, what was it?”

“Uhh,” Harry stole a glance at the hallway Draco had disappeared down, “I don’t think he’d be happy with me telling you,”

“Oh, of course,” Hermione looked mildly disappointed and Harry felt a lump in his throat - is this what being in a relationship meant? That he wouldn’t be able to share everything with Ron and Hermione anymore?

Draco returned after a moment, and Harry had almost forgotten how much he loved his smile during his absence. He reached up behind him and lightly tugged Draco’s head down until he could kiss his cheek.

Draco turned his head and captured his lips. 

“Get a room!” Ron yelled from where he was retrieving biscuits from the pantry, “actually…” he glanced at Harry’s room which shared a wall with the living area, “please don’t, I don’t want to hear that.”

A ripple of chuckles went around the table, and Harry felt his face go red despite him knowing there was no chance of that. When he looked up at Draco, however, he noticed Draco looking somehow paler than usual, and positively sick. It only lasted for a moment though and then his usual cool exterior was replaced and he shot back at Ron, “now, now, no need for jealousy Ronald.”

Ron scowled at the name but took it in good humour.

Harry reached behind him and hugged Draco awkwardly from his sitting position. It was only once he had his tea in his hand that he noticed someone was missing. 

“Where’s George?”

He watched Ron and Hermione share a look and knew there was something no one was telling him. 

“He’s just gone to have a lie down,” Hermione said diplomatically.

“Is he okay?” Harry was starting to worry now. There was something wrong with George and he had to find out what.

“Well,” Hermione hesitated, “he’s in good health, yes,”

She turned and very pointedly engaged herself in the conversation Narcissa was having with Remus and Sirius and Harry turned to look at Draco and Ron. Draco looked as lost as he did, but Ron just looked uncomfortable.

“Ron?”

Ron sighed, glancing over at his girlfriend.

“George has been going through some stuff. Fred dying was hard on all of us, but him most of all. He keeps saying… I don’t know, I think he’s a bit lost in terms of who he is right now. Hermione’s been spending a lot of time with him, so I think she knows more than me.”

Ron shrugged, but Harry could tell he was worried. Harry put his arm on Ron’s briefly, and said “he’ll be okay. He knows he’s got all of us, right?”

Ron nodded, “he just hasn’t been the same since,” his jaw was set and Harry recognised it as his way of not showing his emotions on his face.

“None of us have, I think,” Draco said and Harry tended to agree.

Harry spent much of the evening observing George and noticed for the first time that he was very quiet. He felt guilty for not having noticed it earlier.

He sat himself on the couch next to George after dinner and attempted to engage him in conversation. George was saying all the right things, making jokes but his usual boisterousness was missing, and he seemed less likely to tell any of his own anecdotes.

Harry didn’t know how to help, and he was grateful for Draco having inherited his mother’s gift for small talk that kept the conversation from becoming awkward and stilted.

When George was the first one to excuse himself that evening, Harry followed him down the hall without thinking. George stopped outside his bedroom door and faced Harry, “you alright?”

“Just what I came to ask you,” Harry shuffled his feet, he really hadn’t thought this far ahead, “I just, I wanted to let you know that we’re all here for you, and we all care about you,”

George nodded but it looked to Harry like he was just doing it so he could go to bed.

“I’m serious, George. We’re all a little…” his mind drifted to Draco, “broken. If you want another set of ears or two, Draco and I are here. Offer another perspective, I don’t know.”

George nodded more slowly this time, “thanks Harry,” 

He went into his bedroom and closed the door without another word and Harry really wasn’t sure if he’d made a difference or not.

Rather than going back to the living room, Harry went straight to the room he shared with Draco. He pulled out his wand from his pocket and lay it on the chest of drawers they’d recently moved into the room. He hadn’t used it much, aside from levitating boxes of someone else’s possessions into a skip bin. Magic didn’t feel as fun as it had back at Hogwarts. 

At that realisation, Harry resolved to make magic fun again. 

He strode back into the living room with determination, and everyone turned at the sound of his heavy footsteps.

“Tomorrow, Quidditch?” he said to the room at large, “there’s a field ‘round the back, and it’s a Wizarding village…”

Ron and Draco beamed at the suggestion. Harry didn’t let himself dwell on how long it must have been since Draco had been flying.

“That sounds great, Harry,” Sirius said, “I think we could all do with a little break,”

“Great! I’m going to owl Ginny, and we’ll let George know in the morning,”

With that, Harry turned on his heel and walked back to his bedroom. He grabbed some slightly crumpled parchment and a very crumpled quill from his still mostly unpacked trunk and began writing to Ginny.

_ Ginny, _

_ We’re going to go down to the field behind my place tomorrow and play Quidditch. Feel free to swing round in the morning if you’re in. _

_ Harry _

He paused for a moment, and then decided he couldn’t wait til they were face to face to tell her.

_ P.S. Draco and I are together. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. _

He waved his wand to summon a Post Owl, and hummed while he waited for it to arrive. Draco entered the room just as Harry was tying the letter to the leg of a very large brown owl.

Harry grinned at Draco as he turned around, and reached out for his arm. Rather than holding his hand or pulling him into a hug, however, Harry raised Draco’s hand above his head and spun him around in the middle of their small room. They fell into an easy hug and Harry thought Draco was the softest person he knew.

“You wrote to Ginny then?” Draco asked hesitantly.

“Yep,” Harry said happily, “she’s a great player, well, you would’ve seen her at Hogwarts…” he stopped talking as he noticed Draco’s face. His lips were turned upward in a small smile but his eyes were full of worry.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Oh nothing,” Draco kissed Harry’s nose and climbed onto the bed, where he drew his legs up to his chest and looked like a kicked puppy.

“Hey, no, it’s not nothing, what’s up?”

Draco looked almost annoyed- at himself or Harry, Harry wasn’t sure- and waited for Harry to sit down before answering, “Just a bit odd for me, how close you are to Ginny,”

Harry took a moment to appreciate that the nickname ‘the Weaslette’ seemed to have died and smiled at his boyfriend. “She’s a friend, that’s all. I promise that I have no residual feelings towards her,”

Draco nodded slowly, “I know, but…” his eyes darted around the room and he looked milliseconds away from abandoning this conversation and talking about the weather. His eyes landed on Harry’s shoulder and his voice shook as he asked, “did you and her…?”

Harry’s eyebrows frowned as he deciphered Draco’s question.

“Did we have sex?” he clarified. Draco nodded jerkily.

“No. We were a bit busy fighting a war for most of the time, and anyway, I think we both were dating for a sense of comfort more than anything else. There’s nothing there, Draco, I promise. I only want you.”

Draco seemed to accept this, and took a breath before allowing himself to be drawn into Harry’s arms. Harry could practically feel him his insecurity emanating from his folded figure.

Harry dreamed of snitches, blond hair, and fire and woke itching to get on his broom.

The troupe made their way over to the pitch just after lunchtime. Sirius’ dog form sprinted at high speed towards the pitch, and was followed by Remus chasing him and laughing, two brooms in hand. Hermione and George followed at a much more sedate pace, and they seemed to be having a somewhat serious conversation. Ron and Ginny brought up the rear, discussing tactics and maneuvers they’d been itching to try, complete with hand and, sometimes, whole body movements to illustrate.

Draco was practically shining with happiness where he walked behind Hermione and George. His hair was loose and was curled at the base of his neck. His face was lit up with a relaxed happiness that Harry couldn’t take his eyes off. He thought Draco might just be the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and could hardly believe his luck that he’d agreed to date Harry, even though Harry was just… Harry.

Draco seemed to be having trouble focusing straight ahead as well, and their joined hands were tugged many times during the walk as one or the other of them lost their footing because green eyes were meeting grey. Harry felt terribly cliched, and terribly happy about it. He breathed deeply and let the smell of grass and fresh air bring him closer to complete relaxation. The feel of his firebolt in his hands grounded him and he fought off the supposed-to-be-rhetorical  _ what could ruin such a perfect day? _

They reached the pitch to find Sirius and Remus already in the air, looping around each other like some sort of strange mating ritual. 

George soared into the air as soon as he was close enough, and Hermione turned to the left to sit under a tree on the edge of the makeshift field. Harry watched her methodically placing muggle repelling charms as he and Draco got closer.

His hand missed the warmth of Draco’s as Draco climbed onto his broom and turned to face Harry.

“Game on, Potter,” his snarl gave Harry flashbacks of their early years playing against each other, but his voice lacked any venom. Harry received a kiss on the forehead before Draco rose into the air, Harry not far behind.

For the first ten minutes, the group were content to just fly around the pitch. Harry hadn’t flown for over a year, save for a couple of games at the Burrow, and he relished in the feeling of the wind, cool against his face and in his hair. He flew high, like he had done for all those years as Gryffindor’s seeker, then dove towards the ground, pulling up before he hit. A few more laps around the field and he was itching to have an actual snitch to play with. He took a moment to survey the actions of the rest of the group. Ginny, Ron and George seemed to be doing what Harry himself had been doing - flying high, diving, and taking corners at more speed than was necessary just to feel alive. Sirius and Remus were low down near some trees, playing some kind of game of tip. They weren’t flying fast or far, but Sirius’ bark of laughter echoed through the clearing. It took Harry a moment to find Draco. He found him flying high, higher than Harry had gone, above the field. He was flying in very slow circles, and appeared to be just taking in the scenery.

Harry flew up to him, and, when he got closer, yelled, “you come here often, gorgeous?”

Draco wobbled as Harry’s voice surprised him, but his look of confusion was quickly replaced with laughter.

They sunk towards the ground together, and Harry dug around in the bag Ginny had brought, knowing the snitch was in there. (He might’ve checked with her three or four times before leaving the house, not that he’d admit to that). He clasped it triumphantly in his right hand and held it at eye level to show Draco.

Draco’s eyes narrowed and he looked Harry straight in the eyes.

“Push off on three,” Harry said, letting the snitch go without pulling his gaze from Draco’s, “one, two,” the two ex-seekers kicked hard off the ground and rose as one to their previous position high above the pitch. Harry felt blood rushing in his ears as the excitement of playing seeker against Draco caught up with him.

There were few things Harry missed about his relationship with Draco during the first six years of his schooling, but he had never found someone as well-matched for him to play against. They circled at opposite ends of the pitch, mirroring each other, searching for a glint of gold against the green of the trees. 

It was Harry who spotted it first, hovering three metres directly below Draco. He sped towards his boyfriend, who dropped down once he realised what Harry was doing and successfully blocked Harry from following the snitch as it veered to the right.

“Sucked in, Scarhead,” Draco said, though it was in direct contrast to the look of bliss on his face.

“Such a terrible insult,” Harry muttered. He flew slowly towards Draco, so as not to spook him and gave him a quick kiss, causing them both to wobble slightly in the air. “You’re bad at insults and you’re not going to catch this damn snitch,” Harry said into Draco’s smiling face.

“Yes, dear.” Draco said sarcastically, before zooming off to the side of the pitch Harry had been covering. They circled around the pitch for a few minutes before Draco tore into a dive, Harry hot on his heels. Draco pulled out of it, openly laughing at Harry and Harry scowled at having fallen for Draco’s trick. He pretended to have seen the snitch on the other side of the field, and tore off, turning his head slightly to make sure Draco was following. It was Harry’s turn to laugh, and dodge the slap Draco aimed at his head.

They flew around the pitch together for a while longer, before Draco broke into another dive. Harry caught a glimpse of gold a fraction of a second after Draco and soon they were neck and neck, racing towards the trees. Harry veered left and reached his hand out as he gained on the gold ball, aware of Draco doing the same thing beside him. He felt cool metal as his fingertips brushed the snitch, but Draco’s arms were longer and he held up the hand that gripped the snitch as he slowly sailed a metre above the ground back to the centre of the field, to the applause of everyone else, who had stopped to watch the finale of their game. Harry, in an act he would certainly defend as being well thought out later, jumped from his broom and tackled Draco off his. They rolled onto the ground and Harry landed on his back with Draco’s body firm against his.

Draco held himself up with his hands on either side of Harry’s head and gazed down at his boyfriend, “You could’ve killed me, Potter,”

“Nah,” Harry grinned, “Git like you wouldn’t die that easy, Malfoy,”

Draco beamed back at him and leant down to place a kiss on Harry’s waiting lips. Harry took the opportunity to pull Draco down by the collar of his shirt, and deepened the kiss.

Harry could’ve sworn they only stayed there for a second, but soon Ron was yelling, “Oi, get a room!” and the moment was ruined as the others retook the pitch, this time accompanied by a quaffle.

Draco rolled off Harry and got to his feet, and with the loss of his warmth, Harry realised that he was quite obviously hard. He sat up as quickly as he could, taking Draco’s offered hand to stand up. Draco mounted his broom, eyes already following the action above him.

“Coming, Potter?”

“Think I’ll sit out for a minute,” Harry said, trying to will his face to not be red.

Draco looked at him for a minute too long, however, and his lips formed an “oh” though no sound escaped.

Harry, desperate for this not to become ~a thing~, kissed Draco’s cheek, whispered a “have fun,” into his ear, and made his way over to where Hermione was watching the game from the shade of a small beech tree.

Harry didn’t turn around until he got to the edge of the pitch, and was grateful to see Draco had joined the fray without lingering. He settled down beside Hermione who gave him a small smile.

“You two seem happy,”

“Yeah, we are,”

They watched the game in a comfortable silence for another five minutes until Remus all but fell out of the sky, having decided for the thousandth time that quidditch just wasn’t for him.

He settled, rather less gracefully than Harry would’ve expected, on Hermione’s other side. His eyes followed Sirius for a minute, before his eyes closed. Harry wondered if he’d just fallen asleep or was just taking the opportunity to rest.

“It must be good for you,” Hermione said, turning to face Harry.

“Huh?”

“To have Remus and Sirius, loving each other so openly, you know?”

Harry smiled at that, “Yeah. I mean, it’s not like Arthur and Molly didn’t show me that love could work, but, yeah,” he didn’t quite know how to articulate that Remus and Sirius gave him undoubtable proof that  _ his _ type of love could work.

Hermione didn’t seem to require him to finish his sentence, and focused her attention back on the game. Harry took the opportunity to look at Remus, and saw the man smiling wide, eyes still shut.

Harry rejoined the game not long after, and enjoyed playing chaser while Ginny had a go at Seeker. He wasn’t as good at chasing as he was at seeking and the fumbling with the quaffle that served as a constant reminder of this allowed him to play for fun and not get too competitive. Harry, George, Ginny, Ron and Draco, having all been on their Hogwarts teams, were visibly better than Sirius, whose quidditch experience included cheering from the sidelines, commentating one match against Slytherin (after which McGonagall wouldn’t allow him to do any more), and stealing and hiding the snitch James kept with him, just to watch him freak out.

Nevertheless, everyone was exhausted by the time they landed and packed the balls away, and Hermione lead the way back to the house. 

Once there, Narcissa, who had been enjoying a house at a volume much closer to that which she was used to, had a pitcher of lemonade ready which the makeshift team gratefully accepted before collapsing around the living room.

Harry sat on the couch, sandwiched between Draco and Ginny, Remus perched on the arm. Hermione took the new leather armchair which had only arrived a couple of days ago, and George, Sirius and Ron sprawled on the floor, their backs leaning against the wall. Harry surveyed the room, thinking that he should really get some more seating if this many people were going to live at his house.

Narcissa perched herself on the arm of the couch next to her son, and Draco gratefully settled into her loose embrace. 

Harry rested his head back against the cushions as everyone fell into comfortable conversation in twos and threes.

“Harry,” came a voice to his right. Harry lifted his head with difficulty and looked up at Remus, who was smiling down at him, “Now that all the major renovations are done, I hope it’s okay if Teddy stays here more often?”

Harry beamed, “yes, of course! Teddy is welcome here whenever you’d like,”

Remus ruffled his hair.

A weight on his thigh alerted Harry to Draco’s hand which was gripping his leg possessively. Harry grinned and placed his hand on top of Draco’s, threading his fingers in between Draco’s.

Five minutes later, Remus, Sirius and Narcissa disappeared to do something boring and adult-y (or so Harry assumed, considering he hadn’t been listening) and Ginny pulled out her conversation starter cards again.

Harry shook his head at her, but he was smiling. “Really, Gin? I think we all know just about everything there is to know about each other.”

“Draco doesn’t,” she said simply, “and besides, I would’ve said the same about you and me before last time we played,”

Draco quirked his eyebrow in question and Harry leant into him to whisper that that was how he’d unwittingly come out to his ex girlfriend.

Before long, the game was underway. This time, they took turns picking a card from the top of the deck and then chose one person in the circle to ask, but you couldn’t ask the person who’d asked you.

By the time it was Harry’s turn to choose a card, he’d answered that if he was a flower, he’d be a lily (mostly because he couldn’t think of any other flowers and thought the connection to his mother would make it seem like he’d actually given it some thought) and that the best day of his school life was probably the first time he’d trained with the Quidditch team.

He listened to Draco give his answer - if he was a muggle, he’d probably want to be a doctor or scientist - and picked a card from the top of the pile.

_ What does the last text you sent say? _

Harry read it out and then looked around at the group. Ginny was the only one Harry could remember seeing with a phone with any kind of regularity, so he directed the question at her.

Ginny awkwardly got her phone out of her pocket and flipped open the messages, “it was to Hermione,” she said, eyes flicking up to acknowledge her, “it says, ‘she’ll be okay, we have to let her do this at her own pace,’”

Ginny grabbed the cards from Harry’s hands quickly, as though she didn’t want any follow up questions to be asked. Harry looked at Draco, but he looked like he had no more idea who ‘she’ was than Harry did. 

George answered that he’d prefer to always have smelly feet than bad breath.

“Do you - or did you - have a nickname?” Ron was saying, and Harry forced himself to focus on the game.

“Uh,” Draco said, grinning sheepishly, “my mum always called me ‘little dragon’ when I was little, and this one” Draco poked Harry in the chest, “still calls me Malfoy at times, if that counts.” Harry let himself smile back at Draco, glad that he’d enjoyed slipping back into competition-mode on the Quidditch pitch.

Ron, however, was making a disgusted face, “we do  _ not _ need to know what you two get up to in the bedroom, mate.”

Draco made a face that was caught halfway between an impression of a goldfish and a glare. Harry felt his face heat and his mind inadvertently went to the moment on the Quidditch pitch. He thought that he probably wouldn’t mind calling Draco ‘Malfoy’ in certain circumstances, and crossed his legs, muttering “he was talking about Quidditch, Ron”.

Ron rolled his eyes before passing the cards to his girlfriend, who asked Harry his favourite teacher and why.

“Easy,” Harry said, “Remus. He was fair and taught me how to cast a Patronus.”

George asked Ron his favourite dessert, and Ron spent an exorbitant amount of time deciding between chocolate and mint choc chip.

Draco was next, and read his card aloud, “What is your sexual or romantic orientation?”, before looking around at the group, “Uh, I feel like I know most of yours… George, go for it.”

George looked somewhat panicked and Harry wondered for a brief moment if this card was going to cause another coming amount. Then George took a deep breath and said, “I like girls,” and Harry became sure he had been imagining it.

“Who has been the biggest influence in your life?” he asked Hermione.

Hermione’s decision making process for this question rivalled Ron’s when asked about ice cream. Eventually she settled on Minerva McGonagall, and no one could argue that that was a bad choice.

“Okay,” Ginny said, lifting a card from the top of the pile, “Tell us, in as much detail as you’re comfortable with, one of your sexual fantasies.” She looked around the room, and her eyes found Harry and Draco, “okay, since everyone else here is either my brother, or sleeping with my brother, I’ll go with you, Draco.”

Harry felt Draco’s entire body tense beside him. His face remained neutral but the hand on Harry’s leg gripped him tighter.

Harry leant into Draco and whispered so that he couldn’t be overheard, “it’s okay, you can tell them the truth if you want,” 

Draco shook his head tightly.

“Can he pass?” Harry asked Ginny. By now, surely everyone had realised Draco was uncomfortable.

“Uh,” Ginny said, “sure, I guess, I’ll pick another card,”

It ended up being a simple this or that question, and Draco sagged into Harry gratefully when the game moved on. Before the cards made it the whole way around the circle again though, Harry excused himself and Draco from the game. George appeared to take the opportunity as well, and soon Ginny was pushing the cards back into their box.

Harry took Draco by the hand back to their room. He sat on their bed and Draco moved between his legs before hugging Harry to his chest. Harry listened to Draco’s heartbeat and held on tight.

“You okay, love?” Harry asked into Draco’s chest.

“Mm,” Draco hummed in response.

“Can I ask,” Harry moved back so that he could look at his boyfriend’s face, “why didn’t you want to just say you’re asexual? I’m sure no one would have a problem with it.”

Draco closed his eyes, “I know they wouldn’t,” he opened them again, “but they wouldn’t understand. I don’t want people treading on eggshells around me and thinking they can’t mention sex because ickle Draco will be uncomfortable, I’m a fucking adult, I don’t want them to treat me like a child,”

Harry reached out and put his hands on Draco’s hips.

“I’m sorry,”

Draco’s hands found Harry’s shoulders.

“What are you sorry for?”

“Sorry for asking, sorry for, I don’t know, not understanding properly,”

“It’s okay,” Draco said, kissing Harry’s hair, “no one does,”

Harry had nothing to say to that, but held Draco close.

“And I’m sorry,” Harry said after a minute, “for what happened on the Quidditch pitch,” he cringed as he heard himself say it.

Draco looked Harry in the eye, “that’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said, Potter.”

Harry looked up at him, sheepish.

“It’s a perfectly natural thing, and believe it or not, it happens to me too,” Draco rolled his eyes, “we’re only human, and I refuse to feel uncomfortable because of bodies just doing their thing,”

Harry thought that perhaps Draco was protesting too much, but accepted his answer without argument. 

“Okay, well, I’m still sorry if you felt uncomfortable,”

Draco kissed him and didn’t answer.


	18. Chapter 18

Monday arrived, and, with it, a Ministry owl. Hermione didn’t look surprised in the least, but Ron let a piece of bacon fall from his mouth as it swooped in through the window.

Harry couldn’t believe he’d not realised that today was the day their NEWT results would arrive.

Draco’s face was serious as he handed out the envelopes, and Harry found himself much more anxious to see Draco’s marks than his own. Nevertheless, he ripped open his envelope and directed his gaze directly down.

_Potions - E_

_Herbology - E_

_Charms - E_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts - O_

_Transfiguration - E_

He’d done it, he’d gotten five NEWTs - the exact amount required for Auror training. He felt his chest swell as he looked around to see what the others had gotten.

Hermione, predictably, received Outstandings in all seven subjects she had chosen and was over the moon. Draco had taken six subjects, and received O’s for all of them except Herbology, for which he received an Exceeds Expectations. Ron, having taken the same subjects as Harry, received a mark of Exceeds Expectations for every subject he had taken. The four of them, each having received the marks they needed, chatted noisily over breakfast. Harry had barely finished eating when she announced that she should begin applying for jobs and training programs right away, now that she could complete her application. To Harry’s slight surprise, Draco was equally as keen to begin the next phase of his life, and they disappeared into Ron and Hermione’s room with a laptop each.

Harry looked at Ron over the table of empty plates, still slightly shocked by the force their partners had deserted them with.

“Any idea what you want to do, now we’ve got our results?”

Ron just shrugged, “no idea, mate. Guess I’ll probably sign up for Auror training. Just don’t have that many interests or skills, you know?”

Harry nodded, “Yeah, I know… I’m really not sure I want to be an Auror anymore though,”

Ron patted him on the back as he got up and took his plate to the sink, “Don’t worry mate, by the time they come out of there, Hermione and Draco will be walking dictionaries of every job in the Wizarding world. He’s probably already picked out some careers for you,”

Harry tried to push his anxieties from his head long enough for them to play a game of Wizard’s Chess.

 

Harry spent a lot of time with Ron over the next week. Ron seemed to be taking the approach that if he avoided all conversations and activities that surrounded the idea of getting a job, building a career and becoming an adult, that it’d eventually just go away. Harry wasn’t so optimistic but couldn’t stand to be around Hermione and Draco. Hermione was applying for almost everything she possibly could - and knowing her grades, she’d get into all of them and have a meltdown trying to decide - and Draco had spent hours and hours perfecting his application for positions studying under Potions Masters in the Ministry.

It was Ginny’s arrival on Saturday that shook Harry out of his unproductive funk. She visited with George first, then Hermione and Draco, who hadn’t left Hermione and Ron’s room except to eat and use the bathroom, and finally descended on Ron and Harry who were attempting to play games on Sirius’ iPad and failing horribly because they just didn’t know how these things worked.

“So,” she said, sitting herself down uncomfortably close to Harry and leaning over his shoulder to look at the device in his hands, “I assume you guys have already sent off your big impressive Auror applications then?”

The lilt to her voice gave away that she knew they hadn’t.

“I don’t want to be an Auror,” Harry muttered, only slightly bitterly.

Ron mumbled something inaudible and lifted the tablet so high and close to his face that there was no way he could see the whole screen.

Ginny clicked her tongue. “Come on, you guys need to figure out what you’re going to do. I know you’ve got money, Harry, but you can’t just sit around here for the rest of your life. You’d go stir crazy within a month once everyone else is working all day.”

Harry had to admit that she was right on that point.

“What do you like to do? Let’s find you a job!” she snatched the tablet from Ron’s hands, almost hitting him in the nose in the process, and expertly opened up a new window, typing with a speed and dexterity of which Harry could only dream.

“Harry, you first, what do you enjoy?”

“Er…” Harry was at a loss. This was the entire problem, did he really enjoy anything anymore? “Quidditch?” he said weakly.

“Okay,” Ginny looked up at him, “so there are tryouts for Puddlemere United coming up, and the Winbourne Wasps… a couple more too… there’s a commentator job if you don’t want to play… ooh! You could write a weekly Quidditch column for this magazine which I’ve never heard of… there are manager positions, but looks like they want you to have experience playing professional Quidditch…”

Harry felt his eyes grow wide. He’d never considered that there were so many different jobs in the world of Quidditch. And yet, he found that none of them really appealed to him. Playing would be much more suited to Ginny, and Ron would be great at the analytical side of a column. He said as much, and Ron quirked his eyebrow in interest. As Ginny showed him the details of the writer position, Harry racked his brains to think of anything else he was interested in or good at.

“I don’t know, Gin,” he said, once he caught her eyes on him again, “all I’ve ever done is fight Voldemort using dumb luck,”

“But it wasn’t all dumb luck, was it?” Ron said, thoughtfully, invested in the conversation now that he’d gotten something out of it, “you were always good at the solving the mystery part, too, not to mention all the stuff you taught the DA. You were casting a corporeal patronus in our third year, mate!”

Ginny’s hands began flying all over the tablet’s surface, and Harry couldn’t even begin to follow the screen as it flashed and changed before his eyes.

“Okay, I’ve got a few ideas, Harry,” she said, “here we go, so there’s a position in the DMLE, it’s not quite an Auror position, but more of an investigator- you get all the info, and sometimes go out to collect evidence, but don’t go on raids. Bit of a more lowkey kind of position,”

Harry was surprised. That actually sounded pretty good.

“Also,” Ginny continued, “there’s a few other Ministry positions like that, you might have to do some extra study especially for the St Mungo’s one, but you can do meaningful work and solve mysteries without having to actually face the bad guys… the other thought I had, is teaching DADA, either at Hogwarts or abroad. Hell, you might even stay for longer than a year,” she smiled and put the tablet neatly on her lap, “I’ve sent all the ones I think you might be interested in to your phone,”

She was almost smirking she was so smug, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed. Interesting Ministry work, without having to shoot spells back and forth? Teaching DADA? How could he had not considered these. He suddenly got the urge to go and find Hermione and Draco and start applying, and felt like he finally understood how they could be excited for the future.

Ron, too, seemed to be drafting his application in his head. “I might look at that commentator’s position as well,” he was saying to Ginny, “imagine making a living by talking about Quidditch!”

Ginny smiled and got to her feet, “Looks like my work here is done. I’m going to go find Remus and Sirius, you two should go find your partners and get applying. And remember, George always needs people to help out at the shop!”

She strolled out in the direction of the kitchen and Harry and Ron looked at each other before standing in unison and heading down the hallway, a newfound hope in their hearts.

 

Four hours later, they emerged just in time for dinner. Harry found himself walking at the back of their little group towards the kitchen, and was very surprised when his arm was gripped and he was pulled into his own bedroom.

“Ginny?”

Ginny just smiled at him, “I just wanted to ask how things were going with you and Draco,”

“Oh, uh, good… You couldn’t have asked this over dinner?”

“I just, I heard whispers that there was a bit of drama when you two got together - Sirius even said he rejected you? Then next I hear you’re together. Just wanted to check up on you, make sure everything’s going good,”

Harry relaxed a fraction, knowing this wasn’t an interrogation with an ulterior motive, and allowed himself to settle on the bed next to Ginny.

“Yeah, everything’s going really good. He was a bit… insecure at the beginning. Kept thinking I wouldn’t want him, like he was trying to protect me or something. But I got him to talk, and everything’s okay. He was worried about nothing,” Harry ignored the niggling feeling in his chest that told him their honeymoon period might not last forever, and forced a smile for Ginny. Thankfully, she seemed to accept his words at face value and pulled him into a hug.

“Oi!” came Draco’s voice from the doorway, “should I be jealous?”

Harry detangled himself from Ginny’s embrace to cross the floor and give his boyfriend a peck on the nose, “you know you’re the only one for me,”

With a gagging noise, Ginny lead them to the kitchen where everyone was waiting.

 

 

“I was thinking,” Harry said as he and Draco set the table, “let’s go out on a date sometime soon?” he couldn’t help the questioning lilt in his voice that made him sound much less certain and much more pathetic. Draco didn’t seem to mind though.

“A date, Potter? Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Harry rolled his eyes at the dramatics, “I thought that we could go into muggle London, go to a theme park or cinema or something that muggles do on dates.”

Draco positively lit up at the suggestion, “I’ve heard about cinemas! Like of these-” he dug his phone out of his pocket and waved it in Harry’s face, “-but way bigger, isn’t it?”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh, “yeah pretty much. They play stories,”

“Alright, Harry, you’ve seduced me. Pick me up at eight.”

Harry smacked his boyfriend’s arm hard, “we haven’t even picked a day yet, twat,”

Draco mock-glared at Harry until dinner was served and he was distracted by the array of meats, cheeses, and salads on display. Harry was ever-grateful for the summer months. Everything seemed better when it was bright outside.

Harry and Draco were tasked with dessert, despite (very well meaning) protests that they had no idea how to do anything at all in the kitchen. Harry mumbled something about getting a house-elf as the rest of the group disappeared and they were left to clean up the mess and prepare a dessert from whatever was left in the kitchen.

“Easy!” Draco said, standing up from where he was bent over, inspecting the fridge’s contents, “we’ll make a fruit salad!”

Harry took to gathering the plates and cups that were used during dinner. He levitated them from the table, even though he knew that if Molly was here she would advise against it, and they clattered to the benchtop beside the sink with a rather loud clatter than he would’ve liked. He cringed and waited for the inevitable “everything alright?” from Hermione.

“Fine, Hermione” he shouted back, holding in a sigh.

He tapped the tap with his wand and the sink began filling with warm water. He added dishwashing liquid by hand and found a sponge under the sink. He’d never quite mastered house cleaning charms, and always seemed to break the more delicate crockery when he left magic to do the work for him. Besides, scrubbing was therapeutic in a way, and it meant that he didn’t have to think about dessert.

Draco, however, had other plans. He’d pulled out what must have been every piece of fruit in the fridge and placed them on an empty bit of bench space. He’d then found every sharp knife he could and lay them out next to the fruit. Harry’s hands stopped mid-motion as he looked around. Draco was staring straight at the bench and clearly had no idea where to start.

“Er, Draco?” Harry ventured.

“Yes?” Draco said tersely.

“Do you… need help with the fruit salad?”

“Not at all,” not a fan of showing any kind of weakness, Draco picked the longest knife up from the bench and set about choosing which fruit he was going to attack first. 

Harry dried his hands off as quickly as he could and let the plate he’d been washing sink down into the bubbles.

“That’s a bread knife,” he said, reaching out and removing the offending instrument. “Try… this one.” he handed Draco a much more sedate knife and Draco began haphazardly chopping the leaves off some strawberries.

“Maybe cut them in half or quarters too,” Harry said, wary of coming across as demanding when Draco was so obviously trying to act like he knew what he was doing.

Draco didn’t acknowledge Harry’s suggestion, but soonafter began quartering the strawberries. 

Satisfied, Harry returned to the sink and continued his ministrations.

Barely five minutes later, he heard a loud thud, followed by Draco’s angry mumblings. Spinning around, he could barely control his laughter when he saw what was causing such anguish.

Draco had moved on to cutting the pineapple. Only, he hadn’t switched knives and had instead appeared to have stabbed the poor fruit with the small knife. Predictably, or so Harry thought, the knife had gotten stuck, and Draco was now trying to pull out the knife while also avoiding touching the spiky exterior of the pineapple. Harry watched for a moment longer as Draco balanced on one leg, attempting to use his knee as leverage to get the knife out of the fruit. As Draco’s pulls got more and more erratic, however, Harry moved forward and gently put his hand on Draco’s shoulder. This time, however, he had forgotten to dry his hands and left a large, wet, soapy handmark on Draco’s shirt. This was not the time to worry about that, however. Draco turned at the contact and looked appropriately sheepish at the situation he’d found himself in. Harry took the moment to give Draco a peck on the cheek, which, rather than abating his annoyance, caused him to look even more frustrated.

“Harry, this knife is no good for fruit, this is ridiculous,”

“Okay, let’s get a bigger knife. Also, a game plan, you can’t just go around stabbing innocent pineapples.

Draco scowled, “I’ll stab whatever I want,”

Silently thankful at Draco’s choice of words, Harry took over the pineapple. He jiggled the knife back and forth slowly and pulled it out in one small movement. He then handed Draco a larger knife - though still kept the bread knife away from him - and began demonstrating with his hands how he would slice this particular fruit.

“I’d try to get all the leave away first, because they’re just going to get in the way, so chop maybe here…” he rested his hand horizontally just below the pineapple’s tuft, “and then slice down the sides to get rid of the spiky outside, and then chop it in half by stabbing kind of at the top, and then bringing it down,” he made the motion with his fingers, “then you should be able to just cut it into chunks,” Draco nodded stiffly to show that he had understood.

As Harry moved back to his position at the sink, Draco muttered, “Maybe Ginny’s right,”

Harry’s blood ran cold, and he racked his brain for what Draco could be referring to.

“What?”

“Maybe you should apply for that DADA job at Hogwarts.”

Harry could hardly have asked for a nicer thing to come out of annoyed-Draco’s mouth, and he caught himself humming as he finished the dishes.

Once the dishes were done and spelled dry, Harry moved back to his place right next to Draco. He pulled a mango towards himself and grabbed the discarded knife that had been used for the strawberries and began carefully cutting so as to avoid the stone.

The two of them worked in silence as they cut the remainder of the fruit and soon they had hands a large bowl of inconsistently sized fruit chunks and hands stained with various juices. Draco washed his hands more thoroughly than Harry personally thought was needed, and moved aside so Harry could do the same. As Harry turned his attention from the sink once his hands were clean, he noticed Draco staring at the fruit bowl with a critical eye.

“It’s missing something,”

“It’s got every fruit in the house in it, how could it be missing something?”

Draco shot Harry a look that clearly implied that Harry was being an idiot and once again stuck his head in the fridge. Harry took the opportunity to gather enough clean bowls and spoons for everyone.

“Aha!” Draco emerged holding a 2L container of vanilla ice cream, “Perfect!”

Harry smiled at him, “okay then, let’s go.”

They carried their haul to the living room where their dessert was graciously accepted.

An hour later, after bidding Ginny farewell at the fireplace, Harry carried the empty ice cream container back to the kitchen. Draco followed him with the leftover fruit salad. Harry gave a brief thanks to Merlin for food preserving charms because there was enough fruit left that they’d be eating it for dessert for weeks.

“Which just means we’ll have to get more ice cream,” Draco said when Harry voiced this thought, a twinkle in his eye. 

“I suppose so,” Harry grabbed a pen from the top of the fridge (“Have you seen these?!! Why on Earth would we continue to use quills and goddamn bottles of ink?! The ink is  _ INSIDE _ the pen already!” Sirius had shouted, and soon there were countless cheap blue pens dotted around the house and forced into hands whenever anyone was caught using a quill) and quickly scrawled ‘ice cream’ in huge letters on the magnetised shopping list.

Draco took the pen from his hand, and wrote a much neater ‘vanilla’ above Harry’s note.

Harry couldn’t help but smile and lead Draco back to their room where he lay down on the bed and patted the empty spot next to him. Draco looked at him with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, as though sure Harry was going to try something untoward, but lay down next to him nevertheless. Harry hooked his arm around Draco’s waist and his leg between Draco’s and pulled him close so that they were lying flush together, Harry’s head against Draco’s chest. Draco relaxed quickly, and Harry felt the warmth of his embrace as Draco’s hand rested on Harry’s hip.

Perhaps predictably, by the time Harry had decided that he was ready and wanted to have a conversation, Draco was sound asleep.

Harry detangled himself with some difficulty and pulled the blanket over Draco. He awkwardly shuffled his pants and socks off and hoped Draco wouldn’t mind that he’d slept in his underwear in the morning. Tucking himself in, he moved to his side of the bed and let himself drift off, barely minding that it couldn’t have been later than 9pm.


	19. Chapter 19

Their early night meant that Harry and Draco awoke before many of their housemates. They stumbled into the kitchen before 7, only to find Narcissa reading the paper, a mug of tea steaming in front of her.

“I’ve just boiled the kettle, boys,” she said, by way of greeting, “it should still be hot,”

Draco made a grunt in acknowledgement and flipped the switch of their electric kettle on regardless. He had barely managed to get the teabags in the cups by the time the water was ready, and they were soon sitting opposite Narcissa.

Harry fought the urge to lay his head down on the table. Why on Earth had they gotten out of bed just because they’d woken up? He then realised that it was his own damn house and he was an adult and let his head fall onto the wooden surface with a thump that echoed through the otherwise silent kitchen.

“Any reason you’re up so early, dear?” Narcissa addressed Draco, politely ignoring Harry’s disuse of his neck muscles.

“No, we just fell asleep quite early last night, and woke up with the sun… I must say, I’m not a fan.”

Harry’s eyes closed and he didn’t lift his head off the table, but he imagined that Narcissa was smiling lovingly at her son. That’s what he’d do if he had a son like Draco… which, what? He must really have not woken up properly.

Harry lifted his head up off the table with great difficulty, and quickly supported it with one arm, his elbow resting on the cool wood. He used the other to bring his tea to his mouth and relished in the heat that let his body know the day was beginning.

They mostly drank their tea in silence - Harry and Draco still in zombie-like states from such unfamiliar hours of the day, and Narcissa calmly reading the newspaper. Harry thought he could get used to this. His hand found Draco’s and he held on for barely a minute before remembering that that was his tea drinking hand, and, at the moment, tea was what was keeping him alive.

Harry was just thinking that he could probably manage a full sentence now if he had to, when George entered the kitchen. Harry felt almost like he was watching himself from 20 minutes ago, as George moved methodically around the kitchen to get tea before collapsing at the table.

“Wh-” Harry coughed. “Why are you up so early?”

George looked up at him, sleep in his eyes, and Harry suspected George had not fallen asleep as early as nine.

“Open the shop,” he muttered, head lowering at least an inch per second “Lee’s gone,”

Harry nodded. Lee Jordan had been watching Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes for George while George had taken time off - most of which had been spent at Harry’s.

“Feeling good about going back to work?”

“I miss Fred,” George said, and then lay his head back down on arm. Harry felt the familiar lump in his throat and didn’t know what to say. He remained silent and focused on finishing his tea before it went cold, considering his brain was too foggy to remember any warming charms at the moment. He never had had quite the memory for charms. He cast his mind around and decided to blame Hermione. For no reason other than he didn’t have the energy for analysing his own feelings right now.

Lost in his own world of sleepiness and actively trying not to think of his own shortcomings, Harry barely noticed Narcissa and Draco moving until Draco kissed him on the head with a promise to be back in a moment. He watched the pair disappear into the garden where they positively glowed in the early morning sun.

“You’re lucky,” Harry heard from his left. George was sitting up properly now, and looking at Harry almost wistfully, “you know who you are, and you found someone who loves you for who you are,”

Harry, wondering if this was going to turn into a deep and meaningful conversation, just nodded, “yeah I am”

George looked at him for a moment longer, before picking his mostly full tea up and taking it with him back up the hallway.

Harry put his head back down on the cool wood and decided that questions of identity were not for early morning brain fog. He let himself snooze until Remus, Sirius, Ron and Hermione all emerged at once. Presumably upon hearing the commotion inside, the Malfoys joined them soon after and Harry could no longer fantasise that he was still asleep.

 

“So,” Draco said, later that morning as they sat surrounded by catalogues for bathroom sinks and toilets that all looked kind of the same to Harry, “about that date.”

Harry grinned up at him. This was a welcome distraction, indeed.

“Tuesday night?”

“Sounds good. Want me to pick you up, treat you nice. I did ask you out, after all.”

Draco blushed slightly, but played along, “well of course, a girl needs to be wooed,”

“I’ll pick you up at eight then,”

With a kiss, they returned to work, and Harry tried to pretend he hadn’t been almost ready to drop galleons on a bathroom vanity with heart shaped handles.

 

Tuesday came, and, with it, all of Harry’s nerves. He’d picked out his outfit with Ginny’s help (for Ginny seemed to have a knack for appearing when there was something interesting going on - or, rather, Hermione seemed to have a knack for writing to Ginny when there’s something interesting going on) and had arranged for a bouquet of flowers that he could pick up before their date began. 

Typically, Harry and Draco spent the day together but as the evening drew nearer, Harry knew they needed to get ready. He excused himself just before 5pm and disappeared into their bedroom. He spent more time than he ever had before - with the exception of perhaps the Yule Ball - getting ready. He and Ginny had decided on a dark wash pair of jeans and a simple green button up that Ginny insisted brought out the colour of his eyes. Once he was dressed, and wearing a fancy pair of shoes George had bought him after seeing that he lived in a cheap canvas pair with holes in the bottom, Harry looked in the mirror. He ran his hands through his hair in vain, knowing there was nothing he could do to tame his mess of black locks. 

Feeling about as ready as he’d ever be for a date with the famous Draco Malfoy, Harry looked to the door. There was no way he could leave out that way, lest Draco see him. He quickly opened the door a smidgeon so that Draco would feel free to go in there when he was ready to get ready, and disapparated. He appeared in Ron and Hermione’s room, which was blissfully empty. He strained his ears for a moment to see how noticeable he had been disapparating. Thankfully, he heard nothing out of the ordinary - just a quiet breeze forcing its way through the window and the muffled voices of George and Hermione in the next room. 

He began pacing, chastising himself for not having any kind of a plan beyond this. He wished he could send a message to Ron without arousing suspicion, but Ron had been in the living room with Draco when Harry had left. Harry settled himself in the small armchair in the corner. There was a small bookshelf next to it, and Harry suspected that Hermione had spent many hours in this very seat. Harry leaned over the arm awkwardly and tilted his head to read the spines. Most of them were books he’d never heard of, with titles he couldn’t even begin to comprehend, but scattered among them were their old school textbooks and wizarding fiction. Harry picked up what seemed to be a children’s book entitled  _ Elber and the Dragon _ and flipped through it. It was a story of acceptance and friendship, as could be expected, but Harry was much more interested in the pictures. The big green dragon flew around the page as he read, disappearing around the side of the page to reappear on the next when he turned the page. The young boy, Elber, waved to him in between acting out what was happening in the story.

Harry had never really had picture books growing up, save for the ones handed down from Dudley - usually covered in food stains and with ripped pages. He thought he’d have liked nothing more than to disappear into stories of magic and friendship.

Another ten minutes passed and Harry did nothing but flip through another couple of the books, mostly looking at the pictures circling the pages, and checking the time obsessively. 

After what felt like forever, Ron burst into the room as though he was in a hurry. He stopped two steps in, and stared with surprise at Harry. 

“What are you doing in here?”

“Hiding out until it’s time to pick Draco up for our date,” Harry mumbled, embarrassment clear on his face.

Ron grinned at him, “Alright mate,”

He grabbed what he’d come into the room to get, and left again.

Harry immediately felt stupid, and regretted not asking Ron to stay and hang out with him, or at least bring him something to do for the absurdly long time he’d destined himself to sit in solitude.

He didn’t have to worry, however, for Ron returned barely a minute later and flopped down onto the bed.

“So, how long are you going to be hiding out in my room then?”

Harry looked at the clock on the wall, despite the fact that he could’ve predicted it down to the second due to his frequent checking. It was 5:54. 

“Two hours,” he groaned, “why did I get ready so early?”

“I thought you were looking swish,” Ron said, and Harry tried to hide his laughter at his choice of words. Apparently he didn’t do so well, because Ron’s ears went bright red and he said, “shut up, my mum says it all the time,”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before Ron asked, “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

“The plan?”

“Yeah, where are you going on your big fancy date?”

“Oh,” Harry scratched his head, “Well, I’m taking him to muggle London. We’re going to go to dinner - there’s this nice Italian restaurant Remus told me about - and then to the movies. I thought about taking him to a theme park, you know? But that seemed a little much,”

“Maybe for your next one,” Ron muttered, though his focus seemed elsewhere, “So, how do you reckon he’s going to go with all the muggle stuff? Has he ever spent time in muggle London?”

Harry frowned, and decided to give Ron the benefit of the doubt that this was a genuine question and not a presumption of the Malfoys’ snobbery.

“I don’t really know,” Harry admitted, “I mean, we’ve talked about muggle London before, and he’s definitely not against the idea, but I don’t really know if he’s been…”

“Do you need me to go make sure he’s not putting on his best dress robes?”

Harry’s eyes widened at the thought of Draco Malfoy swanning down muggle London in the best dress robes money could buy. “I’m sure he knows how to dress as a muggle,” Harry said, hoping against hope that he wasn’t wrong.

“Sure,” Ron said, unconvinced.

“Anyway,” Harry plowed on, “you’ve seen him - he’s fully embraced the technology stuff, he uses his phone way more than I do,”

“That’s true,” Ron said, “but I think everyone uses their phones more than you do,”

Harry attempted to reach from his chair to hit Ron at that, but Ron was too far away. Harry lost his balance and had to push up from the floor to regain his seating position.

Ron, sympathetic as always, laughed at him.

“It’ll be fine,” Harry said.

Ron just nodded as though he knew Harry was reassuring himself more than him.

They played exploding snap for the next hour until Ron packed it away and stood up, “I’m going to check your lover boy is wearing something appropriate,”

Harry scowled at him but silently sent his thanks.

After another ten minutes of pacing, as he was growing more anxious now that the date was growing closer, he decided it was time to leave. It was still early, but more acceptably early rather than waiting outside for three hours. He apparated to the front of the house and immediately ducked down behind the waist-high brick fence. He probably should’ve apparated in front of the house next door to avoid being seen, but it was too late now. He awkwardly walked bent over, too afraid of dirtying his clothes to properly crawl, and stood up when he was sure he was hidden behind their neighbours’ hedge. His fingers found the buttons at the bottom of his sleeves and he rolled the button between his finger and thumb until his hand started cramping from the awkward position. His heart was high in his throat by now, as eight o’clock ticked closer. Harry tried to rationalise to himself that he shouldn’t be nervous - this was _Draco._ _His Draco_. Draco wasn’t going to start hating him because of one dud date, surely? Images of a younger Draco’s mocking face swam in his subconscious and he shook his head to get rid of them. Draco wasn’t like that anymore, Draco was kind, and good.

He was just scouting the area around to find a place to sit down, when he heard footsteps approaching his house from the other directions.

“Hey!” he shouted, a little too loudly. The woman startled, and looked between him, the address on the piece of paper she was holding and the house.

“Are you Mr Potter?” she said, unsure.

“Yes! Sorry, would you mind coming over here. I’m picking my partner up and don’t want them to see me before I knock on the door,”

She smiled at this, and decided he was telling the truth. She walked the five metres until she was standing in front of him, and handed him a large bouquet. As she walked back to her car, Harry examined the flowers. He’d asked the florist for the perfect bunch of flowers for a first date. They’d asked a few questions about what he wanted the flowers to ‘say’ (Harry didn’t know flowers could say anything) and had later that day sent him a list of flowers they would be including. Harry couldn’t identify what any of the flowers were, except the white roses, but he knew Draco would appreciate the aesthetic of white flowers against green leaves.

He dug his phone out of his back pocket, which he’d almost forgotten was there, and checked the time. It was 7:50. He decided that since he’d already gotten the flowers, he might as well begin this date. Walking as confidently as he could while practically shaking with nerves, he approached the door, and knocked three times firmly.

Thankfully, Draco answered the door and Harry completely forgot how to speak.

Draco was wearing beautifully tailored black pants, and a black button down shirt that may have been silk. It was embroidered with red flowers, surrounded by gold vines. His hair seemed to have more volume than usual, and was artfully tousled. He was smiling and seemed to be also taking his time to appreciate Harry’s rather more put together than usual appearance.

“You look amazing,” Harry said, once he regained control of his voice and was sure it wouldn’t come out as a squeak.

“You clean up pretty well yourself,” Harry heard the unsaid ‘Potter’ at the end of Draco’s sentence and couldn’t keep the smile of his face.

Remembering himself, he presented the bouquet of flowers to Draco, with a “these are for you,”

Draco brought the flowers to his face and closed his eyes and he inhaled their scent. Harry really wished he had a photo of this moment.

“Thank you,”

Draco turned and handed the flowers to Narcissa, who Harry hadn’t realised had been hovering nearby. Now that he looked, the entire household plus Ginny were gathered in the living room, various books or utensils in their hands so as to try and look like they weren’t just there to spy on them. Sirius and Remus were giggling quietly in the corner and Harry thought he’d quite like to leave before he found out what they were saying.

“Shall we?” Harry offered Draco his arm in a manner that was certainly more for show than practicality, and Draco took it, closing the door behind him as he stepped outside. They made it to the front gate before Harry spun around to face Draco. He took his face in his hands, and gently pulled him into a kiss, “you really do look gorgeous tonight.”

A small squeal followed by a “shh” told him that they had an audience at the window, and Harry took Draco’s hand in his and lead him down the street and out of the community.

“So, how are we getting to muggle London?” Draco asked once they reached the street.

“Well,” Harry rubbed the back of his neck, “up to you, I guess. There’s an apparition point down the street from the restaurant, or we can take the tube,”

“The tube?” Draco’s nose crinkled in disgust, “that sweaty disgusting train?”

“Apparition it is then,” Harry smiled. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was quite fond of Draco’s general disgust for things he considered below him.

There was no one around, but Draco led Harry into the shade of a tree off the side of the road where they could disapparate without arousing suspicion.

“You’ll have to side-along me, I don’t know where we’re going,”

Harry nodded and held tight to Draco’s hand before visualising their destination street. He felt the air sucked out of his lungs as his whole body constricted and by the time they appeared in muggle London, Harry was sure he would’ve completely crushed Draco’s hand if he’d had to endure that sensation any longer. He dropped it quickly to be sure, and muttered a quick apology.

“I hate apparating,”

“And yet you seem to have done it a lot this evening,” Draco said, a glint in his eye, and Harry knew he hadn’t been as subtle as he’d hoped.

“I appreciated the effort,” Draco mumbled, his face close. He kissed Harry’s cheek before taking a step back and looking down the unfamiliar street.

They made their way to the restaurant, Draco’s head swivelling every which way to take in the muggle shops.

They arrived, and were seated almost instantly thanks to the reservation Harry had made.

They ate in comfortable silence for the most part, until Draco said, “it’s nice to be able to actually spend time alone together, without knowing my mother is in the next room,”

Harry laughed at that. He hadn’t considered how different this housing situation was. Harry felt surrounded by friends and family he chose, Draco was still living with his mother.

They talked easily, about the future, about the people they lived with, Draco spoke about Blaise and Pansy whom he still was in contact with and Harry felt slightly bad for taking Draco away from them so often during their eighth year.

Draco was amazed by the cinema. They watched a movie that Harry didn’t really care for, but that Draco raved about the entire way home.  _ Though, _ Harry thought,  _ most of the things he’s pointing out were true for literally any movie. _

They arrived home as Draco was gushing over the realistic looking fight scenes.

“Do you think they used magic?” he said, “Surely, there must be some wizards on the production team, I don’t know how muggles could do all that,”

“They use computers,” Harry said, grinning at his boyfriend, “computers can do everything,”

“Apparently so,” Draco said, still lost in wonder.

Harry unlocked the door and guided Draco in with his hand on his lower back, then followed him in, surprised to see George, Ginny, Ron and Hermione sitting around the living room, not even pretending they hadn’t been waiting up for them.


	20. Chapter 20

“Er… hi?” Harry said, only snaking his arm around Draco’s waist further, not ready for their date to be over yet, “we were just going to…” he gestured lamely towards the hallway, knowing that he’d already lost.

“You can get your lovemaking on afterwards,” Ginny said briskly, and Harry pulled Draco closer to him. Draco gratefully hid his face in Harry’s neck for a moment, and Harry felt a surge of love towards the boy.

Draco looked at the group, who all had very serious faces on, “Okay, let’s get this over with,” he slid out of Harry’s grasp, only to grasp his hand and lead them to the one empty armchair. Harry sat down and Draco, all pretense of grandeur gone, dropped into Harry’s lap sideways, his legs hanging off the right arm.

“Right,” Hermione said, then turned to George, “do you want to?”

George, Harry now noticed, looked as pale as a ghost and like he was going to be sick. Harry’s high from a successful date faded instantly and he was filled with worry. What was this about? Was George okay?

George shook his head.

“Okay…” Hermione looked to her other side, “Ginny, would you prefer to, or should I?”

“You go,” Ginny said, leaning back on the couch where she was seated next to Ron who also looked positively perplexed.

“Okay,” Hermione said again, “do you guys all know what it means to be transgender?”

Harry was caught off guard, and from the look on Draco and Ron’s faces, so were they.

“Somewhat,” Draco said, a question in his voice.

“Right. Well, a transgender person is a person who doesn’t feel like the gender they were assigned at birth matches their true gender.”

“But,” Ron interjected, “isn’t your gender just, y’know,” he gestured awkwardly to his crotch.

“That’s your sex,” Hermione said simply, “gender is whether you feel like a boy or girl or neither, it’s more… how you feel,”

Ron looked like he couldn’t understand, but wasn’t going to ask any more questions, so Hermione continued.

“I’d like to introduce you to Gina,” she said, gesturing to George,  _ well, Gina _ , Harry thought, “she would like us to use she/her pronouns when we refer to her,”

Harry stared at Geor- Gina, and was sure he was doing a stunning impression of a goldfish.

“I don’t really understand,” he said, completely lost.

“You don’t have to,” Ginny said, more harshly than Harry was expecting, “at the moment, all you have to do is remember to call her Gina and use the proper pronouns,”

Harry nodded slowly, “okay,”

Hermione shot Ginny a look and then directed her next statement to Harry, Ron and Draco, “Gina, Ginny and I have spent a fair bit of time talking about all this, and Gina has known she was a girl since-”

“Since forever,” Gina muttered, the first thing she’d said since Harry and Draco had arrived home.

“Yes, so, we’re happy to answer your questions as best we can. I know it’s a bit of a shock but this is who she’s always been,”

“Did-” Ron started, and then stopped himself, “did-” he hesitated again, uncomfortable now that all eyes were on him. When he spoke, it was almost a whisper, “did Fred know?”

Gina swallowed, and took a breath, “yes. He was the only one who knew until this summer,”

Ron got up from his seat and awkwardly approached his sister, “I’m sure he’d be proud,” he threw his arms around Gina, and she almost lifted him up with the enthusiasm with which she returned the hug.

Harry nudged Draco so he’d get up, and followed Ron’s lead. He approached Gina once she had her hands free and gave her a hug that he hoped said that he loved her no matter what.

He stepped back and watched Draco give Gina a slightly more awkward hug.

Gina’s eyes were full of tears, and she looked around the room.

“Thankyou,”

“You’re family,” Harry said, as though that explained everything, and maybe it did.

“I haven’t told Sirius, Remus or Narcissa yet,” Gina said, “but I’m going to in the morning,”

“Mother won’t be an issue,” Draco said, “she went through a stage when I was younger when I’m certain she thought I was a girl rather than just very gay, and was very supportive,” Draco rolled his eyes and the group laughed, tension of the serious moment successfully broken.

Harry and Draco retired to their room shortly after. It was already past midnight and the yawns going around the living room were a mix of exhaustion because of the hour and the emotional rollercoaster they’d gone on together.

Draco flopped on the bed the second they got into the room. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Harry joked, taking a moment to admire the way his hair fanned around his face.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Draco smirked, and sat up.

Harry moved so he stood between his legs, and wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist. He moved his hands up and down, enjoying the feeling of the silk under his rough hands.

He looked into grey eyes and thought of nothing else to say but, “I love you,”

And grey eyes widened and oh shit he’d said that out loud. His heart began racing and he made to drop his hands and step away, but Draco pulled him into a kiss, before murmuring, “I love you too” against his lips. Harry thought this was the most perfect first date ever.

At least, he did, until he realised he was hard and pressing very closely against Draco. Trying not to act suspicious, he swallowed and tried to adjust his body so that it wasn’t obvious. The last thing he wanted to do was make this perfect moment awkward. Apparently though, he already had. 

Draco raised one eyebrow, and then rolled his eyes, “relax,”

Harry stopped his movements but could feel the tension in his shoulders.

“Seriously,” Draco moved his hands from Harry’s chest to his hips and moved him so that he was standing where he had been before - flush against Draco chest to chest - and kissed him.

Harry let himself relax a fraction, his arms around Draco’s shoulders. Draco pulled off and let his head fall against Harry’s chest, and there they stood in a hug that might’ve lasted forever, had Harry’s legs not begun protesting.

Draco pushed him away after what felt like forever, with an intention to get ready for bed. Harry sat on the bed, awkwardly crossing his legs, as Draco pulled his pyjamas from where they always were under his pillow. He began unbuttoning his top and Harry let himself admire the pale skin underneath. He wondered if it was as soft as the silk that was exposing it. 

Draco caught him staring and smirked. Harry thought that, in that moment, maybe he hated Draco. But then he slipped on an oversized pyjama shirt and Harry just wanted to cuddle him.

They brushed their teeth and got into bed, and Draco fell asleep almost instantly, though not without a goodnight kiss and whispered “I love you”s.

As Harry drifted off, he wondered if “I love you” was this era’s “goodnight”. He thought he wouldn’t mind if it was.

 

The next morning, Harry and Draco entered the kitchen right in the middle of Gina, Hermione and Ginny talking to the adults. They wordlessly stood behind Gina as an act of solidarity. Apart from some confused questions from Sirius, the conversation went well and Gina excused herself almost instantly after again receiving hugs from everyone in the room.

When she emerged, her hair was out and there was a small hair clip above her ear. She was wearing a tighter pair of jeans than she normally had been, and her top was undoubtedly feminine in cut. There was a moment of silence when she re-entered the kitchen during which she looked almost ready to escape back the way she came, before Hermione said, “is that my top?” in an almost-annoyed voice, and the tension was broken with laughter.

Gina spent the week looking happier than Harry had seen her since before the war. She was spending a lot more of her time out of the room, and no one seemed to have much reason to have secret whispered conversations anymore.

 

Saturday morning came, and with it, little Teddy Lupin. This was to be the first full week he was going to spend at the house, and he would be there every second week from that time forward. Tonks brought him over and stayed for a cup of tea.

Harry and Draco emerged after sleeping in to find Narcissa carrying a tray of fruits, biscuits and tea. There looked to be enough to feed an army so they put themselves on the couch next to Tonks and gratefully began eating.

“Wotcher Harry,” Tonks winked, “heard you two are going well then?”

Harry smiled at Draco in a move that he was sure was somewhere between romantic and cringe-worthy. “Yeah, we’re going really well,”

“Glad to hear it,” she said, and then launched into a story of Teddy’s antics which included less underwear than is ideal, and a broken giraffe toy. By the time Gina, Ron and Hermione joined them, Remus looked almost ready to give Teddy back after being spat on and having had to change a dirty nappy.

“No take backs,” Tonks said, standing up. She kissed Teddy on the head, then did the same to Remus and Harry, “See you all next week,”

“You know you’re free to visit whenever,” Harry pointed out.

“Ah yes, but where’s the peace and quiet in that?” she joked, and disappeared into the fireplace.

 

Having Teddy around the house made a surprising difference. Harry had only, blissfully, spent at most half a day with him and hadn’t realised how loud he could be. Thankfully, Sirius and Remus put a silencing charm around their room at night so that his crying wouldn’t wake anyone else up, but during the day Teddy was in the living room or kitchen. Most of the time, he was quite well behaved and played with his toys quietly, but he required constant supervision and attention. This job fell, predictably, to Remus most of the time, but somehow also to Harry when Remus was showering or otherwise busy. (“You’re the kid’s godfather” Sirius had said. Harry hadn’t known what to expect when he bitterly retorted, “yeah and you’re mine so do this for me,” but a noogie was what he got.)

Thankfully, Draco seemed to think it was sweet how much time Harry spent with Teddy, and cooed over it rather than getting upset that Teddy was taking all the attention Draco would’ve otherwise gotten.

On Wednesday night, after a particularly dirty session with Teddy where he’d discovered crawling into the garden and had gotten covered in mud, Harry and Draco lay in bed blissfully clean after long showers.

“Do you want kids?” Draco asked quietly.

Harry turned to look at him, “yeah, I always have,”

Draco nodded, “me too,”

Harry felt his heart swell to at least three times its normal size as he pictured a future. He imagined Draco, a potions master, chasing a tiny blonde child around the house that was filled with practical yet elegant furniture of deep green, and scattered with toys. 

He kissed Draco, otherwise at a loss for what to say, and let him drift off to sleep, wondering what kind of future he was picturing.  


 

 

“Okay,” Hermione said in that business-like tone that made Harry feel like he was in a boring meeting he’d rather get out of, “I’ve been doing some reading,” a slight snicker went around the table at that, “and I’ve got some exercises I want to try,”

She handed Ron, Harry and Draco each a blank piece of paper and a pen.

“It’s all about visualising your future, and discovering what you really want so that you can plan actionable goals,” she explained, and Harry instantly got the feeling that he was going to be no good at this.

“We’ve all started applying to various jobs and training programs, so the first thing I want us to do is write down everything we’ve applied for - these are obviously things we want,”

They took a minute, and Harry scribbled down the two ministry jobs he’d applied for, plus the DADA position. He glanced at Draco, who had at least six jobs written down, and Hermione, who looked like she was going to fill a page. Ron, thankfully, only had a couple on his list too - commentating and writing about Quidditch, as well as Auror training. Harry supposed the sensible side of his brain hadn’t been able to resist putting that one there as it was what he was ‘supposed’ to do.

“Okay, now, we write down other things we want in life. Things like, if you want to get married, have kids, own a house, learn a language, get a degree, live in a particular place, you get the idea,”

Harry froze up a little. His instinct was to hide his paper from Draco. What if he wanted more than Draco could give him? He started with goals that didn’t include Draco, and the one they’d already talked about - kids.

He wrote down kids, then travel. After a brief hesitation he wrote down marriage. He chewed this end of his pen as he thought and snuck a peek at the others’ lists. Predictably, Hermione was scribbling like her life depended on it, and Ron seemed to be writing steadily. Harry supposed that dating Hermione probably had some impact on how flippant you could be about the future. Draco, however, looked as lost as Harry did.

Harry scribbled down ‘a satisfying career’ and decided that was good enough for now.

A few minutes later, Hermione called everyone’s attention to her again.

“Okay, now we need to write down the steps to achieving these goals,” she told them, “it might be taking classes, applying for jobs, whatever. And, try and be specific with your goals, include a time frame, that sort of thing,”

Harry thought that just maybe this whole exercise was a waste of time but he looked back down at his list obediently. After ‘kids’ he wrote ‘2 or 3?’ and after a moment scribbled ‘not for a few years though’. He made a similar note next to marriage, and focused on the last two points. Alongside ‘travel’ he scrawled a list of places he’d heard of and would like to visit, and a note ‘as soon as I know what I’m doing next year’. With ‘a satisfying career’ he wrote ‘apply for jobs? Figure out what makes a career satisfying? Work my way up? Some kind of course?’

Realising that he barely knew what kind of career he wanted, and thus could not really plan for it to be satisfying, Harry let his head fall to the table as the others finished. Once he looked up, Hermione was looking at him disapprovingly.

Nevertheless, she continued without making a fuss.

“Okay, now we have more specifics, it’s time to make a goal plan for the next year, so write down the first steps of moving towards your goals,’

Harry scribbled ‘next year’ and underlined it messily, looking at his goals which he thought were quite pathetic and hard to work with. He marked four dot points underneath his heading and wrote

  * Don’t have kids yet but maybe talk to Draco about it
  * Avoid proposing but maybe talk to Draco about it
  * Go somewhere
  * Get a job so I can figure out what I like and don’t like



All but ready to scrunch up his piece of paper, Harry waited again for everyone else to finish. Hermione announced that they were done, and insisted that they kept these pieces of paper to track their progress. Harry suspected hers would end up framed.

Harry mumbled something about putting his paper in his room and left the kitchen, folding it as he went. He noticed Draco following behind him and gratefully shut the door once they were alone.

“I don’t know how you wrote so much,” Harry said instantly, “are you Hermione? Do you have everything figured out?”

Draco laughed out loud, “No way, I was just about to ask you how you’ve stood being friends with her for eight years. Here,”

He handed Harry his paper and Harry took a moment to take in what he was seeing. At the top of the page were the jobs he’d applied for, and then the heading ‘goals’, but under that, broken in odd places so it looked like a list, were the lyrics to  _ I Want to Write You a Song _ .

Harry groaned, “you mean we could’ve been suffering together but I thought I was suffering alone?”

Draco grinned, “be glad you’re not Ron, I bet he gets a lot more of this crap. She probably reads his too,”

Then, in one swift moment, Draco reached down and took Harry’s list from where it lay on the bed. He read silently and then,

“You want to get married?”

Harry nodded, a small movement that was barely noticeable.

“Me too,”

Harry let himself breathe and they shared a quick hug before resigning themselves to go back to the kitchen and probably answer more questions about their long term goals.

Predictably, Hermione was there, list still out, talking a mile a minute to Ron who seemed to be actually listening to her, rather than zoning out like when she tried to teach them Transfiguration. 

She turned on them when they entered the room, “Harry, what’s one thing you’re going to work towards in the next year?”

“Err…” Harry looked at Draco, then actually considered the list he’d made, “I’m going to try and get a job I like,”

“Hmm,” Hermione’s eyes narrowed like this goal wasn’t quite up to her standards, but decided against saying anything, “Draco, what about you?”

“I’m going to find new friends,” Draco said, and Harry had a brief flashback to Hermione punching him in the face during their third year.

Hermione pursed her lips and her eyes followed him as he went about getting himself and Harry a glass of water. Draco handed the water to Harry and then led the way back to the bedroom.

“Hermione’s going to kill you in your sleep,” Harry said, as soon as the bedroom door had closed behind them.

“If she was going to do that, she would’ve done it by now,” Draco shrugged, “she’s probably just going to torture me horribly,”

“She wouldn’t do that,” Harry said darkly, remembering how Hermione had suffered at the hands of Bellatrix at Malfoy Manor.

“Hey, I know, I’m sorry,” Draco’s arms were suddenly around Harry’s shoulders, “was just joking,”

“I know, I know,” Harry lifted his heavy arms to hug his boyfriend, “everything was just so shitty, you know? And things are better now, but nothing feels better,” he shrugged in Draco’s arms, “everything still feels like a big deal, like the end of the world, and it’s not. And I feel stupid because I fucking died so shouldn’t I be able to face anything without falling apart?”

“Hey,” Draco pushed Harry away so that he was at arm’s length and looked at him dead on, “you went through a war, you saw things no one should see, you’re bound to be a little screwed up. We all are, I think,” he turned, letting go of Harry completely, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Soon, music was floating in the air.

“Come here,” Draco pulled Harry close. Harry let his arms go around Draco’s waist while Draco’s hands clasped around the back of Harry’s neck. Slowly, Draco began stepping side to side in time with the music. They danced around the room and Harry let himself breathe. By the time the next song came on, one that was considerably boppier, they were laughing. Draco pulled away from Harry just enough to grab his hand and spin him around. They took turns spinning each other and doing the lamest dance moves they could think of. Harry was back in Draco’s arms for the next song when the door burst open.

“Ron!” Hermione was shouting from the corridor.

Ron was standing a metre into the room, taking in the sight he’d just interrupted - Harry and Draco in each other’s arms, music playing, having clearly just been dancing.

Harry refused to let go of Draco, on principle that he could do whatever he wanted to in his own room. He felt Draco’s arms tighten around him too.

“Weasley,” Draco said, his voice dangerously close to the sneer Harry had grown to know so well. It felt nice to not be on the receiving end for once, “what reason could you possibly have for bursting in here without even knocking? We could have been doing  _ anything _ .” 

Draco’s eyes glinted dangerously and Harry had to bury his head in Draco’s shoulder to avoid bursting out with laughter. 

“I could hear the music,” Ron muttered, apparently now having realised that whatever he’d come here to say was definitely not important enough to have burst in on them, “I figured if you were doing anything else you would’ve used a silencing charm,”

His voice was barely a whisper by the end of it, and Harry couldn’t help but feel that the fun Draco was having with this was contagious.

“Let me get this straight,” Harry said, trying to sound as serious as he could, “you thought we couldn’t possibly be doing  _ anything else _ but dancing, so you burst in here without knocking?”

Hermione’s head appeared around the corner and Harry wondered if she’d just been standing there the whole time, listening.

“No, I-”

“Ron, let’s go,” she glared at him and he sheepishly left the room, “Dinner will be ready in five,” she informed Harry and Draco.

The second the door was shut again, Draco grabbed his wand from where it lay on the dresser and locked the door.

“I wonder what he wanted,” Harry mused.

“Something inconsequential, I guarantee,” Draco said dismissively, “but, he did give me a wonderful idea.”

“Oh?”

“Silencing charms, just all the time,” Draco looked positively gleeful, it was almost terrifying, “they’ll think we’re having sex constantly and never disturb us,”

Harry shook his head before conceding, “not a terrible idea,”

“Not terrible? It’s not just not terrible, it’s great, I am a great ideas man!”

Harry let Draco bask in an idea wizards had had for centuries, and settled back against the cushions.

When they entered the kitchen for dinner, it was to the sight of Ron looking particularly sheepish. Draco, apparently not paying this any mind, went straight to him.

“I must thank you, Weasley,” Ron stopped with his glass halfway to his mouth, “For the silencing charm idea, Harry really wasn’t very happy with having to keep quiet,” he bent down so he was talking right into Ron’s ear, “bit of a screamer, you know,”

Harry slapped Draco’s arm, “oi, shut up,”

Conveniently, his face went red, which, from the look on his face, Ron took as confirmation that what Draco was saying was true.

Harry, Draco and Ron barely spoke all dinner. Luckily, they didn’t really have to. Sirius and Gina were deep in a hypothetical discussion about how to overthrow the Ministry that was getting more and more ridiculous the more they spoke. By the end of the meal, even Remus and Narcissa were throwing in suggestions that ranged from dungbombs to dragons. Sirius stood up at the end of the meal, as though making a speech.

“It is clear,” he said formally, “that this mission will be many-layered. We must include every suggestion, as this is a mission for the people, by the people. We will proceed alphabetically, beginning with the acromantula. They will be set loose into the ministry. Those who survive will then be subjected to cornish pixies, who, while not quite as deadly, are damn annoying. After that, dungbombs and dragons…”

“We should stick the dungbombs to the dragons, I think,” Gina said in as businesslike a tone as she could manage while shaking with laughter.

“Yes yes, very good idea, secretary, write that down,”

Remus’ eyes narrowed, “I hope to god you’re not referring to me,”

One look at his partner and Sirius changed tack immediately, “uh, no, just a figure of speech, dear,”

The alphabetical listing went on for quite some time, and included a brief intermission whereby the entire party sang the song to figure out whether K or L came first.

Harry dreamed of the Ministry that night. He dreamed, as he often did, of dementors, of Voldemort and of Death Eaters. This time, however, he was saved by a mad and wonderful mix of creatures, prank toys and everyday objects.


	21. Chapter 21

 

“We’re going out!” Ginny announced the next morning. Harry heard her before he had time to acknowledge that she was in his house.

“We are?” he mumbled sleepily.

Draco, who’d been up for hours and was on the couch with a coffee wearing an oversized cardigan, laughed at his partner, and patted the space next to him. Harry fell into it and almost fell back to sleep against the soft wool.

“Yes, we are!” Ginny practically shouted, “I go back to Hogwarts on Monday, in case you hadn’t noticed, so we’re going to have some quality family time. Also, Gina and I did some shopping by owl post and it’s time to debut her new style to the world!”

Harry blinked and looked around, “where is she?”

“She’s not up yet,” Ginny said, slightly put out, “but never mind, she agreed to it, and when she gets up, we’re going to start getting ready!”

“Getting ready?” Ron said from the armchair, “I thought we were going out to dinner?”

“We are,” Ginny said.

Ron’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he spluttered out, “it’s 10:30 in the morning!”

“Ronald, dear,” Ginny said, “there is much work to be done. You, Harry and Draco can start getting later than us, considering you’re all too lazy to do makeup or touch a hairbrush,” 

She sauntered off, and Harry allowed his eyes to close. “Thank god we don’t, sounds like a lot of effort being a girl,”

“Hey!” Draco said, offended for some reason that Harry couldn’t understand, “Makeup is not only for girls,”

Harry lifted his head up with great difficulty, “I’ve never seen you wear makeup,”

“Well then, Potter, maybe today is your lucky day!”

Harry mumbled something that even he wasn’t sure were words and the three boys sat in silence for a while.

Eventually, Harry’s stomach got the better of him and he sat himself up with the intention of finding food. He looked around, and saw Ron squinting at his phone, apparently confused by whatever it was showing him, and Draco with a book in his hands, his empty coffee mug on the end table next to him. He kissed Draco lazily on the cheek and, after yet another moment, managed to get to his feet, yawning as he went.

Draco, apparently immersed in whatever he was reading - which Harry was sure was some boring textbook - didn’t acknowledge his movement except for a lingering touch on Harry’s hand as he stood up.

Harry entered the kitchen to find Hermione, Ginny and Narcissa in deep conversation. They were pouring over pieces of paper. From what Harry could see, they contained pictures of dresses, shoes and jewellery. He ignored them and made himself a strong cup of tea before setting about making toast.

He made himself four slices, just to be sure, and carried them back to the living room. Ron and Draco hadn’t moved, and Harry took a moment to appreciate the lazy atmosphere. He put the toast on the coffee table, and by the time he’d gotten himself comfortable on the couch, there were two pieces left and Ron and Draco were both munching away as though they hadn’t just stolen half of his breakfast.

Harry, lazy and hungry, didn’t really mind, and pulled the two remaining slices towards him. He ate quietly, and then summoned a book from his room that Hermione had bought him for his last birthday - it contained a list of the most important defensive spells and measures that young witches and wizards should learn, as well as a history of the dark magic they’re used against.

Harry was halfway through and was really enjoying it, though his stomach dropped whenever he saw his name or the name of someone he knows.  _ The problem with magically updating books, _ he thought. Gina emerged from her room shortly after. She sat herself on the couch next to Harry and he moved his legs so they were in her lap.

“Where are the girls?” she whispered, as though she was worried they would hear.

“In the kitchen, last I saw,” Harry said, eyes flicking up from the section on potions and their antidotes, “they were looking at dresses and shoes and jewellery and things I don’t understand,”

“I don’t understand them either,” Gina said, “but I guess, I’m about to,” she laughed nervously.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Draco said, eyes still scanning the page he was on, “you don’t have to be into that stuff just because you’re a girl. Just like how boys can wear makeup,” he shot a look at Harry and Harry shot him a confused one back - how was he supposed to know this was such a sore spot?

“I know,” Gina said, “I do want to learn, just feel like I’m learning a little late in life,”

“Better late than never?” Harry said, completely out of his depth with what the right thing to say was.

“Yeah…” Gina’s eyes flicked to the kitchen and she patted Harry’s legs twice. Harry, getting the hint, moved his legs so she could stand up, “wish me luck, I guess,”

Three mumbled ‘good luck’s later, Gina disappeared through the doorway and Harry heard a “you’re up!” that sounded very much like it came from Ginny.

“Don’t envy her,” Ron said, looking critically at the doorway that lead to the kitchen, “I don’t get all that stuff,”

“You heard her,” Draco said, “she wants to do it,”

“I guess,” Ron said, “just don’t get it. Seems like a lot of worrying about nothing,”

Draco snapped out of warm snuggly Draco mode that Harry had been enjoying, and stood up suddenly. Standing tall, he seemed much less cuddly and much more like a man on a mission.

“Excuse me,” he said, and stalked towards the kitchen (though Harry didn’t miss the way he ran his hand through Harry’s hair as he left).

“What’s up with him?” Ron asked.

Harry just shrugged, “he’s just Draco,” he said, by way of explanation. 

 

Draco disappeared with the girls for the rest of the day. At some point just after lunch, they all retired into Gina’s room in a mass of giggling.

Ron and Harry spent the day together, reading, talking and playing exploding snap. At about 6:30, Harry asked what time they were leaving.

“In about half an hour,” Remus had answered from where he was reading the Daily Prophet with a critical expression on his face. He then apparently realised what he’d said, stood up and clapped his hands together, “we should get ready, boys!”

Harry was about to ask where Sirius was but Remus disappeared down the hallway and Ron shrugged at Harry. They went off to their own rooms, and Harry threw on the same pair of pants he’d worn for his date with Draco, and a white button up shirt. Deciding this looked a little too stark, he grabbed a simple black blazer of Draco’s and threw that on, too. He spent more time than he usually would have trying to make his hair behave, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth it. He brushed his teeth for good measure, and considered himself ready.

When he got back to the living room, Ron and Remus were already there. They were wearing similar outfits to Harry - their nice pants and button up tops. Harry thought maybe Ron was right - it was very easy to dress nice as a man. 

They were waiting for only five more minutes when the door to Gina’s room opened. Ginny stepped out into the living room. She was wearing a soft pink dress, silver heels, and her hair had been curled. Harry thought she looked quite beautiful.

“Presenting…” she was saying, “Gina Weasley!”

Gina walked out, much more slowly than Ginny had, and Harry almost gasped. She was wearing a simple black dress that showed off her toned calves, black heels (much shorter than Ginny’s), and something was different with her hair.

“Complete with a whole new wardrobe, and haircut by yours truly,” Ginny said, “Makeup by Narcissa, give us a twirl,” 

Gina looked like she was torn between having fun and wanting to die of embarrassment, but nevertheless spun in a small circle so that the tulle of her skirt fanned out around her.

“Are you going to auction the rest of us off, too?” came Sirius’ annoyed voice from Gina’s room, and Gina stuck her middle finger up in his direction, “Nah, Gina’s the prettiest, you can all just come out now,”

Hermione was first out, and Ron’s jaw practically hit the floor. Her hair was in a soft up-do on top of her head, and her purple dress was made out of a floaty material that made her look positively ethereal. Narcissa came next, dressed in an elegant tailored black suit, completed with floral blouse that showed off her trim figure. Even seeing all the effort everyone had put into their outfits couldn’t have prepared Harry for what came next though.

Draco and Sirius emerged, arms linked and Harry felt his eyes bug out of his head. They were both wearing eyeliner, and Harry suspected some kind of makeup on their cheekbones that made them sparkle.

They were wearing tailored suits, similar to Narcissa’s, but there’s were much more out there. Sirius’ suit was purple, with a floral pattern on it that glinted silver when the light hit it. The shirt he wore underneath was white and unbuttoned to his nipples.

Draco was wearing a navy blue suit, that seemed to be made out of velvet, though the labels looked silken. His black shirt was buttoned up only one button more than Sirius’. Harry thought he’d never seen anyone look so good.

Remus was approaching Sirius from next to him, and Harry shook himself out of his shock just in time to hear Remus say, “it’s been a long time since you dressed up like this,”

He didn’t have the time to imagine a young Sirius Black prancing around Hogwarts in floral suits, and made a beeline to Draco.

“Wow,” he said, as soon as he was standing in front of him, “just… wow,”

He lifted his hand up onto Draco’s shoulder, and let it run down the front of the velvet suit. Draco’s hair had been artfully styled, and his straight blonde hair was sticking out in every direction. He was smiling sheepishly.

“It’s… okay?”

Harry couldn’t believe he was being asked that question.

“Draco,” he said seriously, “you look fucking stunning and I think I am the luckiest man alive that I get to kiss you,”

Draco smiled, a wide, genuine smile, that Harry was so grateful he got to see often.

“Can I kiss you?” Harry asked.

“Always,” Draco said simply, “just, gently. Lipstick,”

Harry nodded, and kissed him softly.

Harry grasped Draco’s hand in his, and finally looked around. They made a good looking group, he had to admit. They headed up the driveway and Harry thought this dinner might be just what they all needed.

 

They followed Ginny, the mastermind of the whole evening, as she lead them out of their community, and towards the tube station.

“We’re catching the tube?” Ron said in surprise.

“Yes, we’re having an authentic muggle evening,” Ginny said, “also there’s no apparition points nearby where we’re going, really, so this works out better than apparating and then having to walk,”

Harry surveyed their group as they walked. Ginny and Narcissa were walking tall and proud, clearly feeling like their best selves. Gina was slightly hunched over, obviously self-conscious about her first outing in such obviously feminine attire. Sirius was flipping his hair every two seconds and batting his eyelashes at Remus every chance he got. Hermione and Ron seemed to be walking normally, though Harry noticed a smile etched onto Hermione’s face that was usually replaced by a thoughtful face, or - when he’d annoyed her - a scowl. Ron was gaping at her whenever he caught sight of her beside him.

Draco was smiling and seemed calmly confident. He was standing tall but looked relaxed. Harry wondered if this was more of his true self than he’d ever realised. Harry would certainly not have a problem with Draco looking like this more often.

As they entered the underground station, Harry was suddenly aware of how many muggles were around them, and how very queer - for wont of a better word - they must all look. He glanced at Gina and prayed to Merlin and God and Zeus that no one would say anything.

They made it to the platform without incident, unless you count Gina’s brief stumble as she attempted going down stairs with heels on for the first time. Ginny and Hermione had rushed to her aid and now were standing like guards on either side of her as they waited for the train.

“It’s only a couple of stops,” Ginny was saying, “shouldn’t take more than five minutes,”

“Gin,” Harry called from his place behind her, “what kind of place are we going to? Is it fancy?”

Harry felt partly like he was asking the stupidest question in the universe considering how much effort they’d all gone through to dress up, and partly like he really didn’t know the answer.

“Not too fancy,” she said, and Harry thought bitterly that perhaps she’d get a NEWT in vagueness next year.

They arrived at their stop and by the time they found their way to an actual street Harry was starting to suspect they’d die in the maze of tunnels, and not be found until years later. He imagined their ghosts haunting the underground, dressed to the nines. He thought that probably wasn’t the worst ghost to have. Nevertheless, he was glad once they found the ridiculously long escalator, and subsequently, ticket barriers.

They were on a street Harry had never been to before. Thankfully, there were people around who were as dressed up as they were, but there were equally many people in casual clothes, or who looked like they’d just gotten off work. There was such an array of people, in such an array of outfits, that Harry had just opened his mouth to ask where they were when Draco nudged him and pointed to a flagpole up ahead. Flying proudly was a rainbow flag and Harry looked around him with new eyes. They were clearly in a very queer friendly district of London and Harry felt a rush of affection for Ginny, who had planned this so that everyone felt comfortable.

They arrived at a small pizza parlour situated not far from the underground, and they all stopped outside. Harry wondered what they were waiting for when he saw Ginny nudge Gina softly forward. She looked back at them, a scared look on her face, and then approached the counter.

“Hi, uh, we have a booking for” she paused, “Gina Weasley,”

“Of course,” the staff member replied, “nine people?”

Gina nodded.

“Right this way,”

They were led through the restaurant to a long table in the corner.

“Your server will be with you in a minute to tell you the specials,” they thanked her and took their seats. Ginny flung herself at Gina almost instantly.

“That was awesome, how do you feel?”

“I feel…” Gina looked around, “I feel great,”

Her smile was infectious and the whole group started the evening in high spirits. After mere minutes, during which time the water on the table was distributed and menus started to be read, their server arrived.

“Hi everyone, my name is Alex and I’ll be your server this evening,”

A round of enthusiastic greetings (mostly from Sirius and Ginny) and Alex began reading off the specials for the group. Harry was hardly listening - Draco had started tracing patterns into his thigh with his finger and Harry thought it’d be quite rude to start making out at the dinner table.

After the specials, Alex looked around at the group and said, “At Gianni’s, we like to make this experience as comfortable as possible for all our customers. In that spirit, I ask that we please go around the group and let me know your preferred name and pronouns, so that no one is misgendered while they are here,”

Harry was surprised, and from the looks of the rest of the party, they were too. Ginny, however, looked smug.

“My name is Alex, and I use they/them pronouns,” Alex said, and then gestured to Remus to begin.

“Oh, um, I’m Remus, I use he/him pronouns,”

“Sirius, he/him”

“Narcissa, she/her”

“Ginny, she/her”

“Gina, she/her”

“Hermione, she/her”

“Ron, he/him”

“Harry, he/him”

“Draco, he/him”

Alex’s pen was moving across his notebook, and Harry assumed they were using some kind of shorthand to get that all down.

“Excellent, thank you everyone. I’ll be back in a moment to take your orders. But first, would you like some drinks to start?”

As they ordered wine and soft drink for the table, Draco turned to Ginny.

“How did you find this place?”

“It’s called the internet, Malfoy,” she said, a perfect impression of Draco. Ron burst into laughter, and soon the whole group was laughing and joking among themselves.

“Just goes to show,” Remus leant over and whispered to Harry, “you choose your family,”

Harry thought nothing he’d heard had ever been more true.

After dinner, they left the restaurant without ordering dessert and headed straight back home. Somewhere along the way, Ginny had procured a large rainbow flag which Gina now wore across her shoulders.

“Welcome to the community,” Sirius said, slightly drunk, swaying as they walked down the street away from Gianni’s.

Harry scowled, and said, slightly louder than he meant to, “and what about us?”

“Oh Harry!” Sirius said dramatically, arms out as he flew towards his godson like an aeroplane, “my dear boy, my dear, queer, boy,”

“That’s what he used to call James,” Remus said, apparently to himself, “though James didn’t quite like it very much,”

“Ginevra!” Sirius yelled suddenly, “we need more flags!”

Ginny disappeared with Hermione, and returned minutes later with a handful of huge flags.

“Rainbows for everyone!” Ginny handed one each to Remus, Sirius and Draco, and had left in her hands a flag that was definitely not rainbow. Harry narrowed his eyes at it, “what’s this?”

“Why Harry my dear!” Sirius said dramatically, apparently incapable of letting Ginny answer the question that was directed to her, “it is the bisexual pride flag!”

Harry took it from Ginny and looked at it. It had  two wide stripes on the top and bottom of pink and blue, respectively, and a purple stripe in the middle. Harry thought it’d do just fine.

“Ginny,” Draco said quietly, and he whispered to her. Ginny looked slightly surprised, but nodded at Draco before moving to speak to Hermione. Harry raised his eyebrow in question but Draco just smiled a rather un-Draco-like smile - one that was shy and unsure.

Ginny and Hermione disappeared again and Sirius and Remus began chasing each other while waving their rainbow flags, much to the delight of the onlookers.

Ginny and Hermione returned to the group carrying two more flags. They threw one on Gina’s shoulders over her rainbow flag - it had pink, blue and white stripes.

“The trans flag,” Hermione explained.

“And,” Ginny said, draping a purple, grey, black and white flag over Draco, “the asexual flag,”

He muttered a thankyou and stared at his shoes and Harry felt his heart swell with pride.

He gathered Draco up into his arms and squeezed him tight. When Draco finally looked up, he gave him a soft kiss and whispered, “I’m proud of you,”

The group seemed to be in such high spirits that nobody questioned the recent revelation except Ron, whose “I don’t get it,” was met with a chorus of “shut up, Ron”s.

Harry could only assume that the number of them and their clear unashamedness saved them from comments from strangers on the tube. They made it back home, Gina and Hermione both carrying their shoes as soon as they were certain they wouldn’t step on broken glass, and collapsed around the living room.

“We should do this every night!” Sirius said, to murmurs of general (though less enthusiasic) assent.

Ginny disappeared and reappeared with ice cream and enough bowls and spoons for everyone. Gina disappeared and reappeared with firewhisky.

They passed the firewhisky around, the seventeen year olds glad they could drink at home, as they weren’t allowed to in muggle London, and spirits ran high as the group drank together and toasted to everything under the sun.

“To Gina!”

“To Ginny!”

“To Harry and Draco!”

“To Remus and Sirius!”

“To family!”

“To ice cream!”

“To firewhisky!”

Until finally… “To bed!”

Harry didn’t know how late it was when they fell into bed, but he couldn’t help but be hopeful for many many more nights like that in their future. He dreamed of rainbows and parties and light.


	22. Chapter 22

In the morning, Harry woke up to find Draco sitting up in bed next to him with a book. He rolled over and lazily draped an arm across Draco’s waist, mumbling something he hoped resembled a greeting.

“Morning sleepy head,” Draco said, scooting down in bed so they can cuddle.

They shared a soft kiss and Harry buried his head back into Draco’s chest. They lay there for a while before Draco broke the silence.

“Harry?”

There was something in his tone - this was a serious conversation. Harry moved back so he could see him properly.

“I don’t know what to do about this,”

In his hand was the ace flag from the night before. Harry didn’t know if it was his sleep addled brain or not, but he didn’t see the problem with the flag.

“We should put it on the wall,” he said.

Draco rolled his eyes, “no, I mean, I basically came out to everyone last night… that wasn’t the plan.”

“Oh,”

“Yes. Oh.”

“I don’t think it’s gonna be a big deal, honestly. Everyone’s pretty accepting,”

“No I know, and I don’t think I’m worried about that, more like… it feels very personal, you know? I feel like I just announced that we don’t have sex, rather than announced part of my identity,”

Harry sat up slightly as Draco did the same.

“I don’t want to have to explain myself,”

“Then you don’t have to,” Harry said simply, “I’ll just hex anyone who asks any questions. Ron’s been due for a good hexing since he burst in on us last week,”

Draco laughed despite himself.

“Or,” Harry said, “I’m happy to talk, kind of, on your behalf if you want? If you tell me what you want to say but don’t want to have the actual conversations?”

“No,” Draco said sharply, and Harry held his hands up in mock surrender, “I need to do this myself.”

“Okay, well, just give me the symbol if you need to hex anyone. Ginny is particularly good at Bat Bogey Hexes,”

They got ready with more light touches than usual, and Harry could feel Draco’s nervousness radiating from him. 

They entered the kitchen that morning holding hands, as a team. Apart from hungover groans, breakfast was a quiet affair. Harry chose coffee rather than tea and regretted it almost instantly. He put way too much sugar in it, and Draco wrinkled his nose up at it when Harry tried to palm it off on him. Harry did his best and drank a third of it before pouring it down the sink and instead making a cup of tea.

Sirius was the worst off, as could’ve been predicted. He didn’t even make it to the kitchen, and instead collapsed on the couch whining much too loudly for someone who was so hungover.

“Moonyyyyy, Moooooooonyyyyyyyy, I need coffeeeeee,”

“Shut up, Pads,”

“Moonyyyy, don’t you love me anymore?”

“I’ll love you if you make me coffee instead,”

“Moony!”

“Padfoot!”

Their whining went on for so long that Hermione eventually took pity on them and brought coffee to the couch along with a stack of buttered toast. Remus looked appropriately sheepish as he thanked her, but Sirius accompanied his thanks with: “At least someone loves me, Moony!”

After a couple of hours during which everyone trickled out of their rooms and ate breakfast and drank coffee at very sedate paces, Narcissa approached Harry and Draco where they were sharing an armchair.

“Harry dear,” she said, and Harry was struck by how motherly she seemed, “do you mind if I borrow Draco for a minute?”

“Of course,”

Draco got up awkwardly, and followed his mother down the hallway, a blank look on his face.

Harry tried to take his mind off it by engaging Gina in a conversation. Harry had to hand it to Ginny, last night seemed to be exactly what Gina had needed. Gina talked Harry’s ear off about how wonderful last night had been, and all the things around the street she’d seen that he hadn’t noticed. She then told him, in no uncertain terms, that they were going out again.

“Queers on the town!” she shouted, and Sirius gave a half-hearted “woo” from the couch. Remus almost fell over with laughter, which was impressive considering he was sitting on the floor.

Draco emerged, and sat himself straight back down on Harry’s lap where he’d been before Narcissa had whisked him away.

“Okay?” Harry asked quietly. Gina seemed to get the message, and shifted her body so she was facing Remus and Sirius to give them some privacy.

“She wanted to ask about the ace thing,” Draco said, and he sounded exhausted, “wanted to make sure it wasn’t her fault, or something,”

“I’m sorry, love,”

“It’s okay,” but Harry knew it wasn’t.

“It will be okay,” Harry said.

Harry thought they spent an awful lot of time cuddling, and he didn’t really mind. He didn’t know what he was going to do once they started working though and had to spend whole days apart. When did he get this co-dependent?

Harry and Draco thankfully weren’t disturbed by any more questions until after lunch when Ron found them as they were sitting under the apple tree in the yard, taking in the fading sun.

“Hey,” he said, “Can I sit with you?”

Harry shrugged and moved over so that Ron could fit on the blanket he and Draco were using as a picnic blanket.

“Please, you know, tell me to shut up and all, but I just wanted to ask a couple of questions?” 

Harry looked to Draco. Draco seemed resigned to the fact that this was going to happen sooner or later and nodded.

“Um, so, I don’t really get this asexual thing and I tried talking to Gin, but honestly I’m not sure she really gets it either, and Hermione just repeats the dictionary definition to me,”

It wasn’t a question, but Draco straightened up and answered anyway.

“It just means I don’t get sexually attracted to anyone, I don’t really see the point in sex,”

Ron looked at him for a moment and then said, awkwardly, “But… you’re dating Harry,”

“Yes,” Draco said, “I am dating Harry, I’m not fucking Harry,”

Harry kind of wished he could fall into a deep hole, or, alternatively, go back in time and tell 14 year old Ron Weasley that he’d be having this conversation in a few years time.

“Right,” Ron said, “and that’s the romantic attraction, right?”

Draco nodded.

“Can you- sorry, can you explain what that is, exactly? Gin said it’s different for everyone, which doesn’t help much,”

“For me, it means I want to kiss and cuddle Harry, and go out on dates, and tell everyone he’s my boyfriend. It’s basically everything except for the sex stuff. But for some asexuals, they don’t like kissing because that’s too much like sex, or they don’t even like touching. That’s why it’s different for everyone,”

Harry grabbed Draco’s hand and made a mental note to remind Draco how grateful he was for him taking the time to patiently educate Ron when he had absolutely no obligation to.

“Okay,” Ron said, “that makes sense. Er- so, sorry, do you never see someone and think they’re attractive then?”

“I have eyes, Ronald,” Draco said, and Ron grimaced, “I can see what looks good, that’s aesthetic attraction. I just don’t have the urge to take the clothes that look so good on them off,”

“Right, okay,” Ron hesitated for a moment, awkwardly looking between Harry and Draco, and then abruptly stood up. “Thankyou,” he said, holding out his hand for Draco to shake in an oddly formal gesture, “I- uh- I’m sorry if this was too personal, and, I’m proud of you for telling us,”

Despite Ron sounding like he was repeating what he thought you were meant to say when someone came out, Draco watched Ron leave with a smile on his face.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Harry said.

“No, it wasn’t. And, the best thing, is that Ron is going to go repeat what I’ve said to everyone else, so no one should have any reason to talk to me again,”

Draco settled back down against Harry’s chest and Harry kissed his hair.

“But, the downside is we won’t be able to use your little silencing trick to get them to not interrupt us,”

Draco laughed out loud at that and the afternoon was spent in no one else’s company but each other’s.

Ginny didn’t stay for dinner again that night, as she had to go back to Hogwarts the next day. Harry could hardly believe the summer had gone so quickly.

She pulled him aside as they were saying goodbye.

“You’re good, yeah?”

Harry looked at her, surprise evident on his face, “yeah, of course I am,”

“Good,” she gave him a hug, and didn’t let him go until he promised to write.

“See you at Christmas!”

“Bye, Gin,”

 

Three weeks later, the results of Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco’s applications began trickling in. Hermione got one first, which wasn’t surprising considering she’d applied for at least three times the amount that the others had, and began a cycle of stress and anxiously waiting on letters they’d been focusing on not thinking about.

Hermione made more pros and cons lists than Harry had ever seen in one place before, and ultimately decided on a Ministry job protecting rights for magical creatures. Harry thought back to the house elves and agreed that that was perfect for her.

Draco received a potions apprenticeship under a medical potions master, which was exactly what he had wanted. He ran around the house, displaying the most un-Malfoy-like behaviour Harry had ever seen. He was soon joined by Gina, who Harry suspected just liked to have a reason to run around the house howling.

Ron received a Quidditch commentator trial in which he’d start commentating smaller matches, with opportunities to advance. Harry secretly thought Ron would’ve gone mad having to write out a column every week and was glad that this was the direction he was taking.

Harry received offers to both a DMLE job, and the DADA position. If he was honest with himself, he would’ve been quite offended if McGonagall hadn’t considered him for the position. But now he had to choose one, and no one was giving him any real advice.

“Don’t be thick,” Ron had said.

“I think you know which one you’d prefer, Harry,” Hermione had said cryptically.

“You were born to be a teacher,” Draco said, and, well, that was clearer.

Harry thought about the book Hermione had given him, had thought back to the DA, and thought about living at Hogwarts again, and decided that there was really nothing appealing to him about doing paperwork for the Ministry.

“But wait,” Draco said, as they got into bed after a night of celebrating that everyone had something to work towards now, “hasn’t term already started?”

Harry felt stupid that he hadn’t even thought about when he was actually starting work. He dug the letter out of his jacket pocket that he hadn’t yet taken off, and reread it.

“Uhh, oh here we go -  _ You will be aware that the Hogwarts term has already begun. I will be sending curriculum documents in the next couple of weeks. Your official teaching post will begin after Christmas break. You may use this time for planning. _ ”

Draco squinted, “that seems odd,”

“It does a bit, doesn’t it,” Harry agreed, “But hey, I get more time here,”

A thought occurred to him that he couldn’t believe hadn’t occurred to him as soon as he received the letter.

“We won’t be able to live together anymore,” he felt his stomach drop and he considered writing to McGonagall right now, before he realised Draco was laughing at him.

“Sure we can, you’re not the first person with family to work at Hogwarts. Either we’ll live there, and I’ll floo to work every day, or we’ll live here and both floo to work. We’re wizards, Harry,”

Harry almost sobbed at the wild rollercoaster of emotion he’d just been on, and hugged Draco.

“Harry,” Draco said, suddenly serious, “you want to keep living with me?”

Harry looked at him, not believing what a ridiculous question he was being asked, “I want everything with you, Draco,”

“Good,” Draco smiled, “because I want everything with you too,”

 

The last couple of weeks before Ron, Hermione and Draco began work was odd for Harry. Gina had gone back to working at the shop almost as soon as Ginny had gone back to Hogwarts, and as soon as his three best friends were working, he’d be spending every day home with Remus, Sirius and Narcissa.

He went with them to Diagon Alley to get supplies they needed to work - not that they really knew what they needed, except for Draco, who insisted that he had to have a potions lab set up somewhere in the house. Ron decided he needed to check out the Quidditch supplies store - “it’s important to know what’s going on, now that I work in the industry” - and Hermione buried herself in the magical creatures and law sections of Flourish and Blotts. Harry felt simultaneously like he had too much he wanted to look at to prepare himself, and yet no idea at all. He was only minutely freaking out, but it was enough for Draco to notice and Draco pulled him into a sweet kiss outside the ice cream store.

Predictably, had Harry thought about it even a bit, a Daily Prophet reporter who had probably been following them since they arrived through the Leaky Cauldron, captured the moment.

“Honestly, I’m surprised they’ve taken this long to realise we’re together,” Draco said flippantly, as Harry groaned.

“Well, it’s not like we leave the house much,”

“That’s true, but not for long. We’re proper adults now, Harry. Working adults, productive members of society, all that crap,”

Harry and Draco, done with subtlety, held hands for the rest of their shopping trip. Draco even helped Harry choose a couple of books on defensive magic, and a device that looked oddly like the sneakoscope Harry remembered in fake Moody’s office at Hogwarts. It was similar, but shone different colours depending on whether there was good or bad energy in the room. Harry thought it’d be interesting to watch it for students’ reactions around different types of creatures, and in different lessons. A kind of professional development, he thought.

On Monday, he bid them goodbye for work with packed lunches in brown paper bags. There was no way he was committing to doing that every day, but their first day was something special. Inside were pieces of paper charmed to give whatever encouragement they needed at that moment to get through the day.

When everyone got home and shared anecdotes from their days, and described their colleagues either politely (Hermione: “she’s quite an interesting lady,”) or in too much detail (Ron: “he’s got this massive wart on his chin, and I just couldn’t stop looking at it,”), Harry thought that everything would certainly be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated! I know I have problems with pacing and a lack of description (sorry!) so please don't tell me that haha but any constructive ways to try and fix those issues would be helpful, thankyou! Please be nice, this is the first thing of length I've ever written. Also it was written for NaNoWriMo so it's not the most well-thought out thing ever.
> 
> Ko-fi.com/spiceinvaders


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